UNIVERSITY  OF 

ILLINOIS  LIBRARY 
AT  URBANA-CHAMPAIGM 

ILLINOIS  HISTORICAL  SURVEY 


"WALKS  ABOUT  CHICAGO; 


1871-1881. 


AND 


ARMY  AND  MISCELLANEOUS  SKETCHES. 


F.    B.,WILKIE, 

~^(Poliuto,) 


CHICAGO: 
BELFORD,  CLARKE  &  CO., 

ST.  LOUIS: 

BELFORD  &  CLARKE  ^PUBLISHING  C( 


MDCCCLXXXII. 


COPYRIGHTED. 

BELFORD,   CLARKE  &  CO., 

1880. 


PIHNTED  AND   BOUND 
BV 

DONOHUE  &  HSNNEBERRY, 

CHICAGO. 


-> 
•ZL 

O  : 


O 


KM.    PREFACE. 


No  apology  is  needed  for  bringing  out  this  issue  of  WALKS 
ABOUT  CHICAGO,  for  the  reason  that  it  is  done  solely  in  re- 
sponse to  an  urgent  demand  to  that  effect  on  the  part  of  the 
public.  The  original  book  was  issued  in  1871,  just  before  the 
great  fire;  and  what  was  left  of  it  was  destroyed  when  Chicago 
was  burned.  The  sale  had  been  very  large  from  the  moment 
of  issue  up  to  the  time  of  the  destruction  of  the  city;  and 
ever  since  there  has  been  a  steady  demand  for  the  book.  The 
second  part,  which  consisted  of  letters  from  various  watering 
places,  in  the  ante-fire  edition,  has  been  omitted  from  the  pre- 
sent work,  and  its  place  supplied  with  WALKS  ABOUT  CHICAGO 
IN  1881.  In  all  other  respects  the  book  is  unchanged. 


CHICAGO,  1882. 


F.  B.  W, 


192920 


CONTENTS. 

WALKS  ABOUT  CHICAGO— 1871. 

A  TRIANGULAR  WALK — Nord  Seite — Southside — West- 
side,  9 
WATER- WORKS  AND  WATER-FALLS,      -  22 
COURT-HOUSE  GHOST,  27 
A  WALK  IN  THE  FALL,    -  33 
ORPHEUS  IN  HADES,  39 
low  TO  QUIT  SMOKING,                                   -  46 
IILL  ON  THE  PRAIRIE,                                            -  52 
lOING  TO  THE  MATINEE,  ]                                  -  60 
•  HE  OLD  MAN'S  SMOKE,                   ....  65 


WALKS  ABOUT  CHICAGO— 1881. 
i.  WALK  WITH  A  STRANGER, 

ARMY  AND  OTHER  SKETCHES. 

A  BOHEMIAN  AMONG  THE  REBELS, 
PAP  FULLER'S  GAME  OF  POKER, 
nrX)LLECTIONS  OF  GEN.  FRED.  STEELE,     - 
<:  PEOPLE  I  HAVE  MET, 
3  REMEMBERED  FACES, 
tEMINISCENCE  OF  THE  WAR, 
3SPERADO  WHO  WOULD  NQT  STAY  KILLED, 
NG  THE  GUERRILLAS, 


6  Contents. 

UNCLE  JAMES  AND  THE  BULL, 

SOME  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  ALLATOONA, 

THE  REVELATIONS  OF  A  WINDOW, 

A  REVELATION  OF  CLAIRVOYANCE, 

A  LEAP-YEAR  ROMANCE, 

THE  HORRORS  OF  MASONRY, 

A  DREAM,  AND  How  IT  WAS  FULFILLED, 

GETTING  A  DRINK  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES, 

A  MORAL  COUNTRY  PLACE  AND  ITS  PEOPLE, 

BICYCULAR  AFFECTION, 

ALL  ABOUT  A  WOMAN, 

A  RIDE  TO  DEATH, 

THE  MOST  BEAUTIFUL  WOMAN  I  HAVE  KNOWN 


WALKS  ABOUT  CHICAGO-1871 


A  TRIANGULAR  WALK. 

NOED  SEITE. 

HE  geography,  customs,  productions,  people, 
and  so  forth,  of  a  new  country,  are  always 
full  of  interest. 

Once,    when  I    was    traveling    about,    I 
reached  a  place  known  among  its  inhabitants 
as  "  Nord  Seite."    I  spent  some  time  there.     I 
found  much  to  interest  a  traveler. 
Nord  Seite  is  situated  in  about  the  same  latitude 
as  Chicago,  and  is  about  10^  degrees  of  longitude 
west    of    Washington.      Its    population    is    about 
60,000. 

To  reach  it  from  Chicago,  one  can  take  rail  to 
New  York;  thence  go  by  steamer  to  Alaska,  via 
Cape  Horn;  from  Alaska  south  to  about  the  42nd 
parallel;  thence  east  by  stage  and  rail,  2,000  miles, 
to  Nord  Seite. 

Nord  Seite  has  an  immense  body  of  water  on  one 
side,  and  a  river  whose  main  stream  and  one  branch 
inclose  two  of  the  remaining  sides.  Nord  Seite  is, 
therefore,  a  sort  of  peninsula. 

The  river  referred  to  is  deep  and  sluggish.  It  can 
not  be  forded.  It  can  not  be  crossed  in  small  boats 
on  account  of  its  exhalations.  These  are  a  combi- 
nation of  sulphuretted  hydrogen,  the  odor  of  decay- 
ing rodents,  and  the  stench  of  rotting  brassica.  In 


10  Walks  About  Chicago. 

crossing  this  river  a  sort  of  contrivance  is  resorted 
to,  which  is  termed  by  the  natives,  Briicke. 

This  Briicke  is  not  always  reliable.  Sometimes 
one  can  get  over  the  river  by  its  means,  oftener  he 
can't.  The  Briicke  is  built  of  wood  and  iron, 
painted  red,  and  at  a  distance  looks  not  unlike  a 
stumpy  sort  of  rainbow. 

The  inhabitants  of  Nord  Seite  consist  of  men, 
women,  children,  dogs,  billy-goats,  pigs,  cats,  and 
fleas.  In  estimating  the  proportion  of  each  of  these 
classes,  it  is  found  that  the  fleas  vastly  outnumber 
all  the  others.  They  are  not  only  numerous,  but 
full-grown  and  vicious. 

In  the  warm  season  a  Nord-Seiter  has  a  lively  time 
in  flea-hunting.  In  hunting  this  game  the  Nord 
Seiter  shuts  himself  or  herself  in  a  tight  room  and 
strips  to  the  skin.  Then  the  flea  is  pursued  and 
captured. 

Most  all  the  Nord  Seite  dogs  are  good  flea  hunt- 
ers. They  commence  hunting  fleas  when  young, 
without  any  instruction.  Pretty  much  all  their 
lives  are  spent  in  pursuit  of  this  pastime. 

The  human  population  of  Nord  Seite  is  indus- 
trious. In  the  flea  and  fly  time  especially. 

The  business  of  the  inhabitants  of  Nord.  Seite  con- 
sists of  a  great  variety  of  pursuits  and  occupations. 
These  pursuits  and  occupations  divide  themselves 
naturally  into  two  large  classes.  The  first  in- 
cludes every  other  male  resident  of  Nord  Seite. 
These  are  engaged  in  selling  a  liquid  which  tastes 
something  like  a  mixture  of  hops  and  rosin.  It  is 
the  color  of  amber,  and  is  surmounted  with  a  white, 
yeasty,  flaky  coronal.  The  other  class  includes 
every  man,  woman  and  child  in  Nord  Seite.  This 


A  Triangular   Walk.  11 

class  is  engaged  in  drinking  what  the  other  class  is 
engaged  in  selling. 

From  the  large  admixture  of  hops  in  this  univer- 
sal beverage,  it  results  that  the  residents  of  North 
Seite  are  very  fond  of  dancing. 

The  ladies  of  North  Seite  are  usually  feminine  in 
dress,  and  oftentimes  so  in  fact  and  appearance. 
They  mostly  wear  their  hair  braided  in  small  plaits, 
which  are  again  braided  in  larger  plaits,  which  are 
braided  into  still  larger  ones;  and  these  are  once 
more  braided  into  a  large  braid,  which  is  twisted, 
and  coiled,  and  wound  and  intertwined  in,  and 
around,  and  through,  and  about,  and  over,  and  under 
itself,  till  it  resembles  a  riddle  tied  in  a  Gordian 
knot,  and  the  whole  enveloped  in  a  rebus  which 
nobody  ever  can  guess. 

When  a  Nord-Seite  lady  once  gets  her  hair  done 
up  in  this  complex  and  elaborate  style,  she  never 
takes  it  down.  She  couldn't  if  she  would.  The  only 
method  of  removing  this  style  of  coiffure  is  to  shave 
the  head. 

Intercommunication  in  Nord-Seite  is  carried  on  in 
various  ways.  Many  of  the  inhabitants  go  on  foot. 
Others  have  a  small  two- wheeled  vehicle,  to  which 
are  harnessed  a  dog  and  a  small  boy,  or  a  little  girl. 

They  also  have  tracks  upon  which  run  vehicles 
which  they  term  Vagens.  The  Vagen  is  drawn  by 
two  horses. 

The  Vagen  is  used  principally  for  the  conveyance 
of  passengers  carrying  goods.  It  will  answer  to 
what  would  be  an  express-car  in  this  country,  in 
which  each  man  should  ride  carrying  whatever  ar- 
ticle he  wished  expressed  to  any  point. 

I  have  been  in  a  Vagen  in  which  a  woman,  on 
one  side  of  me,  carried  on  her  lap  a  clothes-basket ; 


12  Walks  About  Chicago. 

in  which  were  four  heads  of  cabbage  ;  six  links  of 
imported  sausage  ;  one  bottle  of  goose-grease  ;  two 
loaves  of  a  brown,  farinaceous  product  termed 
Brodt;  a  calf's  liver;  some  strips  of  what  is  known 
as  Schweinfleisch;  a  half  peck  of  onions  ;  a  string 
of  garlic  ;  and  a  large  piece  of  a  fragrant  compound 
known  as  Limburger  Kdse. 

On  the  other  side  of  me  was  a  woman  with  a  baby 
in  her  arms  ;  a  small  child  on  each  knee  ;  two  other 
children,  a  trifle  larger,  on  their  knees,  on  each  side 
of  her,  looking  out  of  the  windows  of  the  Vagen  ; 
and  five  other  children,  of  various  sizes,  pictur- 
esquely grouped  about  her  knees  and  on  the  floor. 
The  same  sort  of  thing  was  seen  all  through  the 
Vagen.  Each  woman  either  had  from  four  to  nine 
children,  or  a  basket  that  filled  half  the  vehicle. 
Sometimes  a  woman  would  have  the  basket  and  the 
children  both. 

A  very  common  patroness  of  the  Vagen  was  a 
woman  with  two  buckets  of  swill,  carried  by  a  yoke 
from  the  neck.  The  woman  with  the  swill  buckets 
was  very  common.  She  usually  made  her  appear- 
ance at  every  third  square.  She  didn't  generally 
look  very  attractive.  If  possible,  she  smelt  a  trifle 
worse  than  she  looked. 

The*  Nord-Seiter  is  economical.  No  matter  if  he 
earn  nothing  per  diem,  h.e  always  has  enough  to 
buy  a  mug  of  the  amber  fluid,  and  have  five  cents 
over,  which  he  puts  away  in  the  bottom  of  an  old 
stocking. 

There  is  no  newspaper  published  in  Nord  Seite. 
But  there  is  a  brewery  there.  So  is  there  a  distillery. 
There  is  likewise  a  place  where  they  sell  a  beverage 
known  as  Lager  Bier. 


A  Triangular  Walk.  13 

"When  two  or  three  Nord-Seiters  are  conversing 
confidentially  on  a  subject  which  they  wish  nobody 
else  to  hear,  their  whisper  is  about  as  loud  as  the 
tone  in  which  a  Chicago  man  would  say,  "Oh,  Bill!" 
to  an  acquaintance  two  blocks  away. 

When  two  or  three  Nord-Seiters  converse  in  an 
ordinary  tone  of  voice,  the  result  is  a  tremendous 
roar.  A  stranger  would  think  them  engaged  in  a 
hot,  terrific  altercation. 

A  Nord-Seite  Vagen  is  an  epitome  of  one  hundred 
and  eight  distinct  odors,  of  which  onions  constitute 
the  dominant. 

Some  of  the  Nord-Seiters  speak  a  little  broken 
English. 

There  are  many  other  curious  things  about  Nord 
Seite  and  its  population.  Any  body  who  has  time 
and  money  should  visit  the  place.  The  people  are 
hospitable.  Any  one  can  visit  them;  reside  with 
them  as  long  as  necessary;  study  their  customs,  and 
enjoy  himself  very  thoroughly. 

SOUTHSIDE. 

ONCE  I  described  a  visit  I  made  to  a  remote  and 
singular  place  known  to  the  inhabitants  as  Nord 
Seite.  During  the  same  traveling  expedition,  I 
reached  another  city  which  contains  many  points  of 
interest.  This  other  place  is  named,  by  those  who 
reside  in  it,  Southside. 

To  get  to  Southside  from  Nord  Seite,  one  takes  a 
steamer  to  Detroit,  via  Milwaukee,  Mackinaw,  and 
Sarnia.  Thence  east  through  Canada  to  Montreal, 
thence  south  via  St.  Albans,  Rutland,  Saratoga,  and 
Albany  to  New  York.  From  here  you  go  to  Phila- 
delphia, and  thence  west  by  rail  to  Southside. 


14  Walks  About  Chicago. 

By  this  route  one  will  either  reach  Southside,  or 
New  Jerusalem,  by  being  wrecked  on  the  water  or 
smashed  on  the  land.  By  this  route  it  is  two  to  one 
in  favor  of  your  getting  to  New  Jerusalem,  rather 
than  to  Southside.  Few  men  have  ever  essayed  the 
trip  and  lived  to  tell  the  tale. 

When  you  once  get  to  Southside  you  will  feel 
amply  repaid  for  the  risking  the  perils  of  the  jour- 
ney. It  is  a  large  and  thriving  city,  and  has  a  pop- 
ulation of  less  than  100.000. 

Southside  is  laid  out  next  to  a  large  and  flourish- 
ing body  of  water  on  one  side,  and  a  deep  and  aro- 
matic river  on  the  other.  In  the  matter  of  location 
it  is  very  exclusive.  The  river  is  impassable.  Birds 
which  attempt  to  fly  over  it  are  intoxicated  by  its 
exhilarating  perfume,  and  fall  into  it  and  die. 

Southside  has  but  one  street,  which  is  known  as 
The  Avenue.  All  the  population  of  Southside  live 
upon  The  Avenue.  If  you  meet  a  Southsider  in 
St.  Petersburg,  and  ask  him  where  he  lives,  he  will 
say  he  lives  on  The  Avenue.  Afterwards,  if  you  ask 
him,  he  will  tell  you  in  what  city,  state,  and  country 
The  Avenue  is  located. 

Southside  has  street  cars  which  are  exclusively 
for  the  benefit  of  strangers  visiting  the  place.  Some- 
times a  lady  who  lives  on  The  Avenue  gets  on  one 
of  these  cars.  Whenever  she  does,  she  opens  a  con- 
versation with  some  one,  and  tells  him  in  a  loud 
tone  that  both  her  carriages  are  at  the  shop  to  be 
mended.  She  also  is  obliged  to  ask  the  conductor 
how  much  the  fare  is. 

Southside  once  had  a  fine  opera-house  in  which 
there  used  to  sing  grand  artists.  But  now  the  opera- 
house  has  got  to  be  a  combination  of  hippodrome, 
gymnasium,  and  model-artist  exhibitions.  Where 


A  Triangular  Walk.  15 

Casta  Diva  was  once  trilled  sublimely,  there  is  now 
roared  in  a  hoarse  voice,  "  Captain  Jinks  of  the 
Horse  Marines."  Where  Queen  Elizabeth  once 
strode  there  now  straddles  some  undressed  nymph 
— of  the  spectacular  persuasion. 

The  Avenue  in  Southside  is  occupied  by  some  of 
the  most  aristocratic  and  wealthy  families  in  exist- 
ence. There  are  many  of  them  whose  descent  goes 
back  to  Noah  and  Adam. 

The  hospitality  of  many  of  the  aristocratic  and 
wealthy  families  on  The  Avenue  is  remarkable. 
They  carry  their  hospitality  to  such  an  extent  that 
a  family  will  often  put  notices  in  the  newspapers 
offering  all  the  comforts  of  a  home  to  a  couple  of 
young  gentlemen,  or  to  a  gentleman  and  his  wife, 
without  children. 

About  one-half  the  hospitable  residents  on  The 
Avenue,  in  this  manner,  afford  the  comforts  of  a 
home  to  a  few  guests.  In  return  for  the  comforts 
of  a  home  thus  generously  afforded  them,  the  guests 
pay  a  small  per  capita  tax.  This  little  tax  never 
amounts  to  more  than  twice  or  three  times  the  en- 
tire expenses  of  the  hospitable  family  with  whom 
the  guests  find  the  comforts  of  a  home. 

Sometimes  a  resident  of  The  Avenue  will  take  a 
few  guests  for  their  companionship.  The  cost  of 
being  a  companion  on  The  Avenue  ranges  from  all 
you  have  in  the  shape  of  income  to  all  you  can 
borrow. 

There  are  no  boarding-houses  on  The  Avenue.  A 
man  who  can  not  afford  to  be  a  companion  in  a  re- 
fined family,  or  whose  assets  do  not  permit  his  enjoy- 
ment of  the  comforts  of  a  home,  has  to  consult 
economy  and  go  to  a  hotel,  where  he  can  exist  for 
850  per  week. 


16  Walks  About  Chicago. 

All  the  people  who  live  011  The  Avenue  keep  their 
own  carriages.  The  gentlemen  are  good  horsemen, 
and  always  do  their  own  driving.  When  a  South- 
sider  drives  himself  out  he  usually  wears  a  plug  hat, 
with  the  fur,  just  above  the  brim,  brushed  the  wrong 
way.  The  gentleman  who  thus  drives  himself  is 
generally  a  fine,  healthy,  fresh-looking  man.  The 
coachman  rides  behind.  He  has  thin  legs,  a  weak 
voice,  and  frequently  wears  eye-glasses. 

The  young  ladies  who  live  on  The  Avenue  are  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world.  They  always  marry  for 
love.  Especially  if  the  husband  be  worth  a  couple 
of  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Or  says  he  is. 

When  these  charming  young  ladies  are  married 
they  never  get  divorces — in  less  than  three  or  six 
months.  If  they  do,  the  case  is  exceptional.  The 
rule  is  one  year,  unless  the  young  man's  money  runs 
out  sooner,  or  the  young  woman  gets  a  better  offer. 

There  is  one  gambling  house  in  Southside.  There 
is  likewise  a  house  occupied  by  young  women  who 
are  highly  painted,  and  about  the  purity  of  whose 
morals  there  is  some  doubt. 

There  is  likewise  an  association  of  young  Christ- 
ians who  pray  for  the  poor,  and  needy,  and  the 
starving. 

Getting  to  heaven  from  Southside  is  an  exclusive, 
first-class,  expensive  operation.  A  reserved  seat  on 
the  Southside  route  costs  from  $1,500  to  $5,000  per 
annum.  They  run  only  drawing-room  vehicles  and 
palace  cars  from  the  Southside  depots.  Grace, 
Trinity  and  Messiah  are  some  of  the  principal  de- 
pots from  out  which  there  run  weekly  lines  of  vel- 
vet and  mahogany  coaches,  in  which  every  thing  is 
exclusive,  first-class,  tip-top,  and  warranted  to  run 
through  without  change. 


A  Triangular  Walk.  17 

A  poor  man  in  Southside  whe  wants  to  go  to 
heaven  has  to  go  afoot.  There  is  only  one  man  in 
Southside  who  is  footing  it.  There  are  some  other 
poor  ones  who  are  too  weak  to  walk  and  too  poor  to 
ride.  They  propose  to  go  to  the  other  place.  It  is 
a  good  deal  cheaper  to  go  to  h — 1  from  Southside 
than  it  is  to  go  to  heaven. 

Southside  has  a  fine  park  some  where.  Real 
estate  dealers  know  where  it  is.  It  will  be  a  nice, 
shady  place  as  soon  as  some  trees  are  set  out.  All 
the  little  boys  of  Southside  are  going  to  take  their 
grandchildren  down  to  the  par.k  to  play,  as  soon  as 
the  latter  get  large  enough. 

There  is  a  velocipede  school  in  Southside.  Some 
of  the  young  men  of  Southside  who  ride  the  veloci- 
pede have  to  stiffen  their  legs  with  splinters  to  keep 
them  from  snapping  off.  Southside  has  also  a  peri- 
odical published  in  the  interest  of  woman.  The  in- 
terest of  woman  means,  the  interest  of  the  woman 
that  publishes  it.  There  is  also  a  man  in  the  com- 
mission business  in  Southside.  He  lives  on  The 
Avenue. 

There  are  a  thousand  other  curious  things  con- 
nected with  Southside  and  its  residents  which  must 
be  seen  to  be  appreciated.  It  is  a  good  place  to  go 
to. 

WESTSIDE. 

Any  person  who  has  ever  traveled  much,  or  who 
has  studied  physical  geography,  must  have  visited, 
or  must  have  seen  a  place  known  as  Westside.  It  is 
one  of  the  largest  places  of  its  size,  and  the  most 
singular  in  respect  to  its  singularity,  in  the  world. 

To  get  to  Westside,  the  traveler  provides  himself 
with  a  water-proof  suit  of  clothing,  an  umbrella,  a 
life-preserver,  and  a  box  of  troches.  He  then  enters 


18  Walks  About  Chicago. 

an  immense  hole  under  ground  which  leads  mainly 
westward  in  one  direction,  and  eastward  in  another. 

This  subterranean  entrance  to  Westside  was  con- 
structed for  a  double  purpose.  One  of  these  pur- 
poses was  to  prevent  anybody  who  lives  on  West- 
side  from  leaving.  The  other  was  because  there  is 
a  river  which  nobody  can  cross,  owing  to  its  ex- 
halations. This  subterranean  entrance  runs  under 
this  river. 

Going  through  this  hole  is  a  work  of  immense 
difficulty  and  danger.  The  best  way  to  get  through 
in  winter  is  to  skate  through.  In  summer,  for  a  few 
days,  in  dog-days,  there  is  good  boating.  The  innu- 
merable cascades,  cataracts,  pitfalls,  and  the  intense 
darkness,  make  its  navigation  a  work  of  great  risk. 
Like  the  entrance  to  Rasselas'  Happy  Valley,  it  is 
constructed  to  keep  people  in,  who  are  once  in,  and 
to  discourage  the  coming  in  of  those  who  are  out. 

Once  in  Westside  the  traveler  finds  himself  on  an 
enormous  plain  sparsely  covered  with  houses.  West- 
side  extends  from  the  river  to  a  park  somewhere  on 
its  limits  to  the  westward.  Just  where  this  park  is, 
nobody  knows.  The  boundaries  of  Westside  are  as 
limitless  and  indefinite  as  the  interval  from  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  to  the  present  time. 

The  architecture  of  Westside  is  fine  and  peculiar. 
A  residence  with  a  marble  front  always  has  a 
butcher's  shop  on  one  side,  and  a  beer  saloon  on  the 
other.  The  people  who  live  in  Westside  are  as  di- 
versified as  their  architecture. 

Westside  has  street-cars  which  are  sometimes 
visible  when  a  rain  has  laid  the  dust.  One  conduc- 
tor on  one  of  these  street-cars  washed  his  hands  one 
spring.  At  least  it  w^as  said  that  he  did.  Nobody 


A  Triangular  Walk.  19 

was  ever  able  to  tell  when  the  time  was,  or  which 
conductor  it  was  that  did  it. 

Whenever  a  man  in  Westside  builds  a  house  and 
puts  up  a  fence  in  front  of  it,  he  immediately  calls 
the  space  in  front  of  his  lot  an  avenue.  Sometimes 
a  Westside  avenue  is  as  much  as  200  or  300  feet 
long. 

Every  other  shop  on  Westside  is  owned  by  a 
butcher,  who  has  always  a  bloody  and  half-skinned 
calf  hanging  up  in  his  door  for  a  cheerful  sign.  The 
thing  is  so  agreeable  to  Westsiders,  that,  on  every 
pleasant  afternoon,  the  ladies  take  their  knitting- 
work,  and  go  and  sit  in  front  of  the  butcher's  shop. 

Westside  is  the  residence  of  a  good  many  notable,™? 
strong-minded  women.     These   strong-minded  wo- 
men all  have  virtuous  and  docile  husbands,~who  are 
further  characterized  byTEelr  sweetness,  and  their 
retiring  dispositions.     Whenever  a  Westside  woman  J 
gets  to  weigh  270  pounds,  she  immediately  starts 
out  in  favor  of  woman's  rights.     In  this  weigh,  she 
is  able  to  afford  great  weight  to  the  cause  which 
she  advocates. 

Every  woman  on  Westside  once  lived  on  The 
Avenue  in  a  place  known  as  Southside.  Whenever 
she  goes  down  town,  she  goes  to  visit  a  friend  on 
The  Avenue.  Whenever  she  has  been  down  town, 
she  has  been  to  call  on  a  friend  who  lives  on  The 
Avenue.  A  good  many  ladies  who  live  in  Westside 
carry  the  idea,  in  the  cars,  that  they  live  in  Southside, 
on  The  Avenue,  and  are  only  in  Westside  for  a  visit. 
The  uncle,  aunt,  cousin,  grand-mother,  brother-in- 
law,  step-sister,  half-uncle,  and  god-father  of  every 
body  in  Westside  lives  on  The  Avenue  in  Southside. 
No  young  lady  in  Westside  will  receive  permanent 


20  Walks  About  Chicago. 

attention  from  a  young  man  unless  he  lives  on  The 
Avenue  in  Southside.  When  a  Westsider  of  the 
female  persuasion  dies,  her  spirit  immediately  wings 
its  way  to  the  blissful  and  ecstatic  realms  of  The 
Avenue  on  Southside. 

The  railway  companies  in  Westside  never  water 
their  track.  They  do  their  stock.  The  result,  in 
both  cases,  is  to  throw  dirt  in  the  eyes  of  the  public. 

There  are  no  carriages  in  Westside.  It  is  so  dusty 
there,  that  a  vehicle  which  does  not  run  on  rails  can 
never  find  its  way  from  one  point  to  another.  When 
it  is  not  dusty  it  is  muddy.  The  dust  has  no  top, 
and  the  mud  no  bottom.  In  either  case,  locomotion, 
except  on  tracks,  is  impossible. 

Westside  has  no  newspapers.  It  likewise  has  no 
opera-house  which  is  used  as  a  circus.  Its  principal 
local  amusement  consists,  among  the  men,  in  chew- 
ing tobacco,  and  among  the  women,  in  going  to 
church.  Wherever  there  is  a  corner  in  Westside  not 
occupied  as  a  drug  store,  it  is  occupied  by  a  church. 

All  the  churches  in  Westside  have  something 
going  on  in  them  every  evening,  and  seven  after- 
noons in  every  week,  and  four  times  every  Sunday. 
Whenever  there  is  anything  going  on  in  any  church, 
they  toll  the  bell  for  an  hour  and  a  quarter  before  it 
commences,  and  at  intervals  during  the  perform- 
ance. The  result  is,  that  every  man  in  Westside 
hears  from  one  to  eleven  bells  tolling  cheerfully 
three  fifths  of  his  time. 

A  stranger  in  Westside  would  conclude  that  the 
whole  town  was  dead,  or  that  ten  or  fifteen  melan- 
choly funerals  were  in  progress  in  every  neighbor- 
hood. There  is  one  church,  on  the  corner  of  Wash- 
ington avenue  and  Robey  avenue,  that  has  been 
tolling  its  bell  without  cessation  for  two  years.  When 


A  Triangular  Walk.  21 

there  isn't  a  prayer-meeting,  or  somebody  dead,  they 
toll  it  for  somebody  who  is  going  to  die.  They  use 
up  a  sexton  there  every  thirteen  days.  When  there 
is  no  prayer-meeting,  or  any  thing  else,  or  any  body 
dead,  or  any  body  who  is  going  to  die,  then  the  bell 
tolls  for  the  last  deceased  sexton. 

Westside  is  immensely  philanthropic.  It  has  an 
asylum  for  inebriates  from  Southside,  and  other 
places.  This  asylum  has  often  as  many  as  from  one 
to  two  inebriates  who  are  undergoing  treatment. 
The  treatment  consists  in  leaning  against  the  fence, 
when  tight,  and  in  stepping  over  the  way  to  a  saloon 
and  getting  tight,  when  sober.  The  asylum  is  a  very 
cheerful  building,  with  enormous  windows  of  four 
by  six  glass.  Some  of  the  rooms  are  fine  and  airy, 
and  would  answer  for  dog-kennels  if  enlarged  and 
properly  ventilated. 

There  are  a  good  many  other  peculiar  things  in 
"Westside,  which  can  be  better  understood  by  being 
seen  than  by  being  heard  of.  Any  body  who  dares 
to  face  the  dangers  and  darkness  of  the  hole  in  the 
ground  by  which  one  reaches  Westside,  will  be  well 
repaid  for  his  visit. 


WATER-WORKS  AND  WATER-FALLS. 
• 

'HEN  one  lacks  a  theme  'upon  which*  to 
write,  he  can  always  fall  back  on  Chicago. 
Other  subjects  have  a  depth  which  is  fath- 
omable; Chicago,  like  its  mud,  is  bottomless. 
One  can  always  write  about  Chicago  with- 
out wearying  himself  or  his  readers.  He  may 
write  of  it  as  a  whole, — a  mud-hole, — if  he 
chooses,  and  never  exhaust  it.  He  may  deal  with 
it  in  particulars,  and  never  reach  their  end. 

The  great  event  of  the  past  week  was  the  great 
tunnel.  And  speaking  of  water-works  irresistibly 
reminds  one  of  our  ladies.  And  this  again  necessi- 
tates raptures.  What  is  there  more  beautiful  in 
song  or  story,  in  romance  or  legend,  in  dreams  or 
in  imagination,  than  the  latest  style  of  woman? 
Her  water-fall,  tied  on  the  top  of  her  head,  may  be 
said  to  be  at  high  tide.  There  is  nothing  so  charm- 
ing as  the  present  style.  What  can  be  more  rakish 
than  the  little  flat  hat,  one  end  of  which  rests  on  a 
delicate  nose,  and  the  other,  reaching  aspiringly  up- 
wards, upon  the  towering  water-fall?  The  nose  of 
the  ladies  is  out  of  joint.  Once  it  had  its  own  bridge; 
now  it  serves  as  a  pier  for  a  bridge  from  nose  to 
chignon. 

The  part  of  the  head  thus  bridged  is  that  which 
usually  contains  the  intellectual  faculties.  Bridges 
are  generally  built  over  abysses.  There  is  ordina- 
rily nothing  under  a  bridge.  Is  there  any  thing 


Water-Works  and  Water-Falls.  23 

under  these  hat-bridges?  Are  they  constructed  be- 
cause there  is  emptiness,  space,  vacuity,  an  abysm 
between  nose  and  waterfall? 

The  elevated  chignon  now  covers  the  organs  of 
amativeness  and  self-esteem.  When  women  lack  a 
development  in  any  part,  they  usually  supply  it. 
Why  they  should  pad  either  of  these  phrenological 
developments,  one  fails  to  see.  It  is  like  carrying 
coals  to  Newcastle.  The  latter  of  these  two  organs 
is  always  of  full  size  in  the  sex.  The  other  is  never 
deficient.  It  is  the  most  beautiful  development  in 
woman.  With  it  she  loves  early  and  often. 

From  a  water-fall  to  water- works  the  transforma- 
tion is  natural.  In  this  connection,  it  is  gratifying 
to  be  able  to  state  that  the  new  water  works  well. 
Not  well-water,  but  lake-water  is  meant. 

The  new  water  which  comes  through  the  tunnel 
is  of  the  most  remarkable  purity.  It  is  so  perfectly 
clear  and  transparent  that,  when  frozen  into  ice,  it 
becomes  invisible.  When  a  goblet  stands  before 
one  at  dinner,  he  has  to  thrust  his  finger  in  it  to 
know  whether  there  is  water  there.  In  some 
respects  it  is  inconvenient.  A  pail  left  over  night, 
half-filled  with  water,  will  contain  a  half-dozen 
drowned  rats  in  the  morning.  They  leap  into  the 
pail  thinking  that  there  is  nothing  in  it.  It  is  dan- 
gerous to  leave  water-tubs  about  that  have  water  in 
them;  children  get  into  them  to  play,  under  the 
impression  that  they  are  empty.  Small  children  are 
very  frequently  found  in  a  very  wet  condition. 

The  introduction  of  the  new  water,  has  ruined 
filter  manufacturers.  Passing  our  water  through  a 
filter  has  the  effect  to  purify  the  filter  and  to  foul  the 
water.  Speaking  of  water-fowl  leads  to  the  inquiry 


24  Walks  About  Chicago. 

as  to  whether  there  is  any  philological  connection 
between  these  birds  and  an  aqua-duck? 

Not  only  are  filter  dealers  about  to  fail,  but  hotel 
and  boarding-house  keepers  are  experiencing  a 
heavy  loss.  A  pitcher  of  water,  which  once  went  a 
great  ways  in  house-keeping,  is  now  of  no  account 
save  to  quench  thirst.  Many  families  that,  on  Fri- 
day, drank  only  Chicago  water,  now  have  to  buy 
their  fish  at  the  market.  In  fact,  the  expenses  of 
living  in  Chicago  have  increased.  Where  there  was 
once  a  surplus,  there  is  now  a  defishency.  Before 
the  tunnel  was  bored,  board  was  a  more  profitable 
affair  than  it  now  is.  Then  it  was  like  the  water, — 
there  was  something  in  it;  now,  like  the  water,  there 
is  nothing  in  it. 

The  cleansing  properties  of  the  new  water  are 
wonderful.  Children  whose  faces  have  been  washed 
in  it  have  been  lost  and  never  found.  Their  mothers 
can  not  recognize  them.  It  is  proposed  to  estab- 
lish a  place  where  lost  children  may  be  gathered, 
and  where  only  the  old  water  will  be  used  in  their 
ablutions.  In  time,  it  is  expected  that  many  young 
children,  whom  nobody  now  knows,  will  be  recog- 
nized by  their  parents. 

Long-married  people  who  wash  themselves  in  the 
new  water  undergo  all  the  satisfaction  of  a  newly- 
married  pair.  She  seems  some  other  woman.  He 
appears  some  other  man.  The  jaded  routine  of 
their  old  life  disappears.  There  are  the  freshness, 
the  piquancy,  of  a  new  love.  She  is  tender,  believ- 
ing him  some  gentle  stranger.  He  is  gallant,  think- 
ing her  some  beautiful  young  Thing. 

Some  queer  results  attend  the  invisibility  which 
characterizes  the  purity  of  Chicago  water.  The 
day  that  the  water  was  let  in,  there  was  an  alarm 


Water-Works  and  Water-Falls.  25 

of  fire.  The  engines  proceeded  to  the  conflagation. 
It  was  that  of  $250  worth  of  cigars,  insured  in  four 
companies  at  $1,000  each.  The  hose  was  reeled  off 
and  attached  to  the  hydrants.  The  firemen  directed 
the  nozzles  towards  the  burning  establishment. 
There  was  a  tremendous  rush,  as  of  air,  but  appa- 
rently no  water.  The  real  state  of  the  case  was 
not  suspected  until  a  passing  dog,  that  happened  to 
go  in  a  line  of  the  stream,  was  stricken  with  hydro- 
phobia. 

The  result  of  the  occurrence  is  well  known.  The 
owner  of  the  cigar  stock  got  his  insurance,  and  went 
back  to  his  native  clime  south  of  the  Baltic.  When 
last  heard  from,  he  was  engaged  in  giving  advice 
to  some  poor  countrymen.  He  told  them  to  go 
to  America,  and  that  their  best  policy  would  be  to 
insure  something.  He  assured  them  that  the  risks 
in  this  business  were  small,  and  the  premium  for  a 
virtuous  adherence  to  the  business  lucrative. 

Speaking  of  insurance  suggests  that  competition 
in  this  line  grows  more  lively  every  day.  A  com- 
pany has  just  been  started  that  offers  heavy  induce- 
ments. It  will  take  small  cigar  stocks  at  a  minimum 
of  four  times  their  value;  and  it  presents,  along  with 
each  policy,  a  barrel  of  shavings,  a  bottle  of  turpen- 
tine, and  a  box  of  matches. 

Insurance  companies  in  Chicago  are  doing  a  fine 
business.  A  good  many  men  have  latterly  been  able 
to  retire  to  private  life.  Nearly  all  of  those  who 
have  retired  have  large  balances  at  the  bank.  These 
balances  appear  on  that  side  of  the  bank-ledger 
known  as  "Dr." 

Insurance,  however,  has  no  special  connection 
with  Chicago  water,  unless  it  be  marine  insurance. 
In  this  case  there  is  some.  Marine  insurance  is  not 


26  Walks  About  Chicago. 

the  life  assurance  of  marines.     It  refers  to  vessels 
which  cross  that  crystal  reservoir  from  which  Chi 
cago  now  draws  its  water. 

The  purity  of  Chicago  water  is  guaranteed  from 
the  fact  that  it  reaches  us  through  a  hole.  Water 
that  comes  to  us  through  a  hole  must  be  wholly 
water.  It  does  not,  however,  follow  that  it  is  holy 
water.  It  is  simply  good,  pure  water.  It  is  good 
enough  to  form  the  subject  of  a  poem.  The  eau  de 
Chicago  might  be  used  as  the  theme  of  a  cold  water 
ode. 

Perhaps  some  future  poet,  struck  by  the  gorgeous 
spectacle  of  our  grandeur,  may  attempt  this  ode.  If 
he  does,  he  had  better  make  it  "  owed."  A  century 
hence,  what  Chicago  owed  in  1867,  will  be  a  greater 
subject  of  reflection  than  its  water-works. 


COURT-HOUSE   GHOST. 


HE  writer  was  taking  a  walk  around  the 
court  house  square.  There  is  a  nice  prome- 
nade in  the  public  square.  Especially  after 
night.  The  massive  court  house  is  piled  up 
like  immense  masses  of  darkness  bordered  with 
gray.  It  is  a  cool  place.  Whatever  way  one 
goes,  the  fierce  winds  come  howling  around  the 
corners  of  the  rectangle,  meeting  him  square  in  the 
face.  If  he  turn  and  go  the  other  way,  the  winds 
hasten  back,  and  are  in  waiting  to  meet  him  in  the 
face  at  the  next  corner.  ft 

If  one  is  a  little  lonely,  he  need  not  lack  for  com- 
panionship. He  can  get  up  a  conversation  at  any 
time  with  voices  that  issue  through  the  grates,  Not 
a  very  select  conversation,  however;  at  least  on  the 
part  of  the  voices  behind  the  grates.  There  is  much 
oath.  There  are  allusions  suggestive  of  moral  rot- 
tenness. Expletives  odorous  with  blasphemy.  Not 
much  will  be  said  by  the  voices  behind  the  grates  to 
excite  the  admiration  of  a  healthy  Christian. 

It  was  a  cloudy  night  on  which  the  writer  amused 
himself  by  walking  in  the  square.  A  mist  had  set- 
tled over  the  street  lamps,  and  their  light  seemed  to 
issue  through  long  tubes,  whose  inner  surface  ap- 
peared covered  with  grayish  points,  like  long  hairs. 
Nothing  was  visible  anywhere,  save  in  dim  outline. 
No  pedestrians  anywhere  were  visible.  There  came 


28  Walks  About  Chicago. 

indistinctly  the  click  of  billiard-balls  from  a  half- 
obscured  mass  of  light  in  the  Sherman  House. 

Suddenly,  as  the  writer  stood  listening  to  the 
voices  behind  the  grate,  there  stood  before  him  a 
gigantic  figure.  He  did  not  appear  to  have  come 
there.  He  appeared,  as  it  were.  There  was  no 
sound  of  steps  to  announce  his  coming.  He  stood 
there  like  a  tree,  as  if  he  had  always  been  there. 
He  was  wrapped  in  a  heavy  overcoat.  Tall  boots 
passed  above  his  knees,  and  disappeared  beneath 
his  coat.  An  immense  cap  was  drawn  down  over 
his  ears  and  forehead.  A  large  shawl  inclosed  his 
neck  and  the  lower  portion  of  his  face.  No  portion 
of  the  countenance  was  exposed,  save  his  eyes. 

The  writer  was  startled  at  the  abrupt  appearance 
of  the  stranger,  and  his  motionless  attitude.  At  the 
very  moment  that  he  appeared,  the  air  seemed  im- 
pregnated with  a  foetid  odor. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  said  the  writer,  as  he  involun- 
tarily covered  his  nose  with  one  hand,  and  with  the 
other  felt  for  the  butt  of  his  revolver. 

"  Who  am  I?"  said  the  stranger,  in  a  strange,  hol- 
low voice.  "Who  am  I?"  he  repeated  slowly.  "I 
will  tell  you  who  I  am.  I  am  the  incarnation  of 
stench.  I  am,  in  short,  the  COURT-HOUSE  GHOST." 

"You  don't  tell  me!" 

"  Truly,  I  am.     If  you  doubt \  use  your  olfactories." 

"  I'f aith,  I  can  no  longer  doubt  the  former  part  of 
your  assertion.  But  the  ghost  part  I  am  not  so  sure 
of.  I  am  inclined  to  suspect  that  you  are  a  bone- 
boiler  just  in  from  the  South  branch.  Or  a  he-Naiad, 
just  arisen  from  the  Chicago  river." 

"No.  I  am  what  I  say.  I  am  the  Court-House 
Ghost.  It's  me  who  has  been  groaning  so  dismally 


Court-House  Ghost.  29 

through  the  corridors  of  the  jail.  I  was  seeking  an 
outlet." 

"  Being  a  ghost,  why  need  you  make  any  extra 
effort  to  get  out?" 

"  Because,  since  the  cold  weather  has  come  on, 
every  crack  and  orifice  in  the  jail  has  been  so  stopped 
up  that  there  was  no  exit.  Hence  my  groans.  In 
warm  weather,  I  have  no  trouble  to  come  and  go 
when  I  please." 

"  Exactly.     Well,  do  you  travel  around  much?" 

"Oh,  yes.  I  am  fond  of  going  around.  I  am 
partial  to  amusements.  I  like  Wood's  Museum.  I 
go  there  often." 

"  Precisely.  I  think  it  likely.  I  may  never  have 
seen  you  there;  but,  if  not  mistaken,  I  have  smelt 
you." 

"Undoubtedly.     I  go  there  almost  every  night./ 

"  And  do  you  have  no  other  resort?" 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course.  Next  to  the  Museum,  I  am 
partial  to  McVicker's.  On  crowded  nights,  I  can't 
say  but  what  I  like  the  latter  almost  as  well  as  the 
former.  I  sometimes,  on  benefit  or  fashionable 
nights,  like  to  drop  into  the  Opera-House.  But,  as 
a  general  thing,  I  don't  like  that  place.  It  is  too 
large  and  airy,  and  I  become  lost  in  its  vastness." 

"  Do  you  do  anything  else  when  you  come  out- 
side?" 

"  Yes,  next  to  going  to  places  of  amusement,  I 
like  the  horse-cars.  I  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  on 
the  horse-cars.  Latterly,  however,  the  roads  have 
been  torn  up  so  much  that  my  favorite  routes  have 
been  much  interfered  with.  My  preference  is  for 
Archer  road.  That  has  been  all  right  this  summer, 
I  used  to  be  very  fond  of  the  Halsted  and  Milwau- 
kee lines.  But,  just  to  defeat  or  annoy  me,  those 


30  Walks  About  Chicvgo. 

roads  have  been  torn  up  all  summer,  and,  in  conse- 
quence, I  have  been  swindled  out  of  a  good  many 
pleasant  trips." 

"  Are  you  a  member  of  any  church?  Do  you 
patronize  the  Sabbath  services?" 

"  You  take  me  for  a  heathen,  sir?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  take  you  for  a  son  of  old  rancidity, 
by  a  marriage  with  some  member  of  the  highly  re- 
spectable assafcetida  family.  That's  all.  Don't 
take  offence." 

"No  offence.  Well,  then,  I  do  attend  church  very 
regularly.  Some  of  the  churches  in  town  are  favor- 
ites of  mine.  I  am  partial  to  all  the  services,  but 
especially  to  those  held  in  the  evening." 

"  I  think  I  have  recognized  your  presence  in  sev- 
eral cases.  As  a  general  thing,  you  seem  to  be  a 
favorite.  In  my  own  case,  I  must  say  that  I  have 
given  more  attention  to  you  than  to  the  sermon. 
Usually,  there  is  more  of  you.  You  appeal,  so  to 
speak,  more  to  one's  senses." 

"Yes,  I  am  rather  a  favorite  among  the  religious 
people.  Somehow,  folks  have  fallen  into  the  way 
of  thinking  that  I  am  a  necessary  part  of  Divine 
service.  If  I  were  not  present,  they  would  not  think 
the  performance  complete.  I  infer  that  I  am  much 
liked  from  the  fact  that  nearly  all  the  churches  are 
built  with  special  reference  to  my  convenience. 
They  are  so  fearful,  apparently,  that  I  will  not  stay 
with  them,  that  they  are  careful  to  allow  no  avenue 
of  escape.  I  rather  like  it.  Usually,  the  sisters  are 
charming.  It  pleases  me  to  be  with  them.  I  nestle 
among  their  furs  and  tresses.  I  brush  their  rosy 
lips,  and  mingle  myself  with  their  breath.  I  am 
very  fond  of  women,  I  am," 


Court-House  Ghost.  31 

"  Well,  my  sentimental  extract  of  putrescence, 
what  else  do  you  do  to  amuse  yourself?" 

"  Not  much  of  anything  in  particular,  but  a  little 
of  every  thing  in  general.  Sometimes  I  visit  a  twin 
brother  of  mine  who  resides  at  Bridgeport ;  and  I 
linger,  at  times,  over  the  bridges  to  inhale  the  in- 
spiriting odor  of  that  romantic  stream,  Chicago  river. 
Occasionally,  late  at  night,  I  take  a  ride,  on  a  scav- 
enger's cart,  into  the  country.  Sometimes  I  go  over 
to  the  Armory,  and  I  always  attend  the  morning 
sessions  of  the  police  court." 

"  Well,  now,  my  amiable  fetor,  tell  me  what  place 
you  like  best,  You  seem  to  have  been  pretty  much 
all  over  Chicago,  and  are  prepared  to  say  what  you 
prefer.  Have  you  a  choice  of  residences — of  loung- 
ing places?" 

"By  all  means,  sir,  in  the  language  of  the  poet, 
'There  is  no  place  like  home.'  My  home  is  the 
basement  of  the  court-house.  There  is  no  place  like 
it.  I  am  as  old  as,  or  older  than,  the  'ancient,  fish- 
like  smell '  of  which  you  have  doubtless  heard.  I  am 
the  biggest  old  smell  in  Chicago.  I  was  born  in  the 
"jail.  I  love  it.  None  of  my  numerous  relations 
ever  had  a  home  like  mine.  It  is  so  exactly  adapted 
to  my  convenience,  that  sometimes  I  think  it  was 
built  expressly  for  me.  If  so,  blessings  on  the  archi- 
tect! In  any  case,  benisons  on  the  authorities  who 
are  so  careful  to  minister  to  my  comfort!" 

At  this  moment  the  spectre  seemed  to  grow  emo- 
tional. It  drew  its  sleeve  rapidly  across  the  abyss 
between  the  bottom  of  its  cap  and  the  top  of  its 
neck-handkerchief. 

"Yes,  sir,"  it  continued,  "it's  very  generous  of 
'em.  I  wouldn't  'a  thought  anybody  would  'a  done 
it  for  a  poor  old  stink  like  me.  It  must  be  on  ac- 


32  Walks  About  Chicago. 

count  of  my  age.  I  am  one  of  the  oldest  inhabi- 
tants. I  was  born  right  here  in  Chicago,  and  I've 
grown  with  the  city.  All  the  jail  officials  like  me. 
The  jailor  is  an  especial  good  friend.  He  spends 
nearly  all  his  time  in  my  company.  In  fact,  so 
much  are  we  together  that  any  one  would  take  us 
for  brothers.  In  a  good  many  points  you  can't  tell 
us  apart." 

"Where  are  you  going  to-night?"  asked  the  writer 
as  the  bell  in  the  Court  House  commenced  striking 
midnight. 

"  I  came  out  to  go  to  the  limits  on  some  of  the 
last  cars.  I  generally  go  out  with  some  of  'em 
when  the  nights  are  cold.  Good-bye,  stranger." 

Before  the  writer  had  time  to  respond  to  the  salu- 
tation, the  ghost  of  the  Court  House  had  disap- 
peared. Removing  his  hand  cautiously  from  his 
nose,  the  writer  hurried  from  the  vicinity. 


A  WALK  IN  THE  FALL. 


CHICAGO  has  entered  the  fall  season  under 
very  favorable  auspices.  Chicago  always 
enters  upon  a  change  of  season  under 
favorable  auspices.  When  it  commences  the 
summer,  it  has  a  promise  of  its  magnificent 
summer  climate.  When  it  begins  winter,  there 
are  foreshadowings  of  skating,  and  sleighing,  and 
pretty  ankles,  and  much  else  more  or  less  elevating. 
In  the  beginning  of  spring,  it  is  very  pleasant  to  re- 
flect that  only  three  months  of  mud  and  mean 
weather  separate  us  from  summer.  The  autumn  is 
mainly  pleasant  as  being  only  one  remove  from  win- 
ter. 

The  fall  season  in  Chicago,  like  everything  else 
hereabouts,  is  a  good  thing.  It  is  the  bridge  which 
connects  glorious  summer  with  magnificent  winter. 
Its  coolness  begins  to  tell  a  little  on  the  smells  at 
the  Museum  and  the  Theatre.  Only  a  little,  how- 
ever. It  takes  a  killing  frost  to  effect  either  of 
them  to  any  appreciable  extent.  Even  then  no 
great  effect  is  produced.  These  smells  have  a  good 
many  lives.  They  are  frost-proof.  One  of  them  is 
about  four  and  the  other  is  six  years  old.  So  to 
speak,  they  are  just  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  give 
promise  of  a  long  lease  of  existence. 

There  is  a  younger  smell  at  the  Opera-House.  It 
is  what  might  be  called  a  baby  smell  in  comparison 


34  Walks  About  Chicago. 

with  the  veterans  at  the  other  places.  But  it  is 
growing  and  thriving.  In  time  it  may  be  as  stout 
and  healthy  a  smell  as  that  on  exhibition  at  either 
of  the  other  places. 

There  is  no  truth  in  the  rumor  that  Wood  and 
McVicker  are  negotiating  to  trade  smells.  A  trade 
would  be  a  good  thing  to  the  respective  audiences, 
by  way  of  variety;  but  it  would  be  a  good  deal  of 
trouble  to  make  the  transfer.  Neithei  would  it  bear 
transportation  on  a  dray,  owing  to  its  size.  There 
isn't  any  truck  in  Chicago  large  enough  to  handle 
either  of  them. 

The  fall  season  affords  tourists  a  fine  opportunity 
to  inspect  Chicago  in  detail.  One  of  the  most  fav- 
ored localities  now  visited  by  travelers  is  the  wilder- 
ness known  as  Union  Park.  Several  scientific  par- 
ties have  lately  been  organized  to  visit  the  mound  in 
this  park.  It  is  a  great  curiosity.  Last  week  a 
party  of  savans,  composed  of  the  members  of  the 
Chicago  Academy  of  Sciences,  went  out  to  examine 
the  mound.  Taking  two  days'  provisions,  ladders 
and  ropes  to  make  an  ascent  with,  and  theodolytes 
and  quadrants  to  take  observations  with,  and  shov- 
els and  picks  to  dig  with,  they  went  to  the  park, 
and  went  into  camp  at  the  foot  of  the  wonderful 
mound. 

The  following  are  extracts  from  notes  of  observa- 
tions taken  during  a  three  days'  visit  to  the  celebra- 
ted mound: 

"  The  Committee  appointed  by  the  Chicago  Acad- 
emy of  Sciences,  having  provided  themselves  with 
abundant  provisions  and  scientific  instruments,  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  the  examination  of  the  mound 
near  West  Lake  Street,  in  what  is  known  as  Union 
Park, 


A  Walk  in  the  Fall.  35 

"This  celebrated  mound  has  hitherto  been  sup- 
posed to  be  either  a  tumulus,  or  else  a  species  of 
lusus  naturod.. 

"It  presents,  at  a  short  distance,  the  appearance 
of  an  irregular  hemisphere  lying  upon  its  flat  side. 
A  closer  view  showed  your  committee  that  its  color 
is  dark  gray,  not  unlike  that  of  the  unctuous,  tena- 
cious mixture  of  alumina  and  silica  known  as  clay, 
and  excavated  everywhere  in  our  streets. 

"  It  is  entirely  destitute  of  vegetation;  from  which 
fact,  and  the  color  of  the  mound,,  Dr.  Andrews  was 
inclined  to  believe  that  the  mound  was  of  volcanic 
origin,  and  that  it  was  composed  of  lava  worn  into 
its  present  shape  by  attrition  from  the  receding 
waters  of  Lake  Michigan. 

"  There  arose  a  discussion  as  to  the  origin — a  por- 
tion of  the  committee  favoring  the  volcanic  theory, 
and  another  portion  what  may  be  termed  the  tumu- 
lous  explanation.  It  was  finally  agreed  to  postpone 
a  priori  discussion  and  proceed  with  an  examina- 
tion. 

"Around  the  base  of  the  mound  were  found  small, 
roundish  stones,  having  veins,  clouds  and  other  vari- 
ations, and  evidently  the  result  of  simple  concretion, 
or  incrustration  around  a  central  mucleus.  They  are 
better  known  as  pebbles.  There  were  also  frag- 
ments of  carboniferous  rocks,  which  appeared  as  if 
they  had  been  broken  from  the  parent  mass  by  some 
tremendous  force. 

"Dr.  Reily  thought  they  resembled  a  good  deal 
the  pieces  of  rock  taken  from  the  limestone  quarries 
near  the  Artesian  Well,  and,  being  there  broken  by 
machinery,  are  used  for  macadamizing  streets. 

"By  the  use  of  ladders  and  ropes,  an  ascent  of  the 
mound  was  accomplished.  Immediate  preparations 


36  Walks  About  Chicago. 

were  made  for  an  excavation.  The  crust  was  dense 
and  almost  as  hard  as  a  rock.  This  fact  confirmed 
Dr.  Kennicott  in  a  belief  that  the  origin  of  the 
mound  would  be  found  connected  with  the  azoic 
period  of  formation. 

"After  the  crust  had  been  penetrated  to  the  depth 
of  six  or  seven  inches,  the  process  of  excavation 
grew  more  easy.  The  entire  absence  of  organic 
remains  at  this  point  of  penetration  seemed  to  rather 
strengthen  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Kennicott  as  to  the 
azoic  origin  of  the  mound. 

"  Ten  inches  from  the  surface  the  committee  found 
a  large  leaf  in  a  partial  state  of  preservation,  and 
whose  extent,  color  and  odor,  not  unlike  that  of  saur 
kraut,  were  like  those  of  the  brassica  oleracea,  or 
common  cabbage.  This  remnant,  being  unmistaka- 
bly vegetable  in  its  character,  at  once  overthrew  the 
theory  of  the  reference  of  the  mound  to  an  azoic 
period. 

"  About  a  foot  below  the  vegetable,  a  tough,  stiff, 
leathery  article,  not  unlike  a  boot  sole,  was  found. 
Eighteen  inches  below  the  latter,  in  a  stratum  of  a 
gravelly  character,  we  found  the  body  of  a  vertebrate 
animal  in  a  tolerable  state  of  preservation.  Its  back- 
bone ultimated  caudately  about  fourteen  inches.  Its 
head  was  rounded,  face  oval,  jaws  armed  with  long, 
sharp  teeth,  and  feet  with  keen  claws.  The  entire 
body  was  covered  with  soft,  short  fur,  and  the  ani- 
mal belonged  unmistakably'  to  the  genus  felis.  A 
very  powerful  and  unpleasant  odor,  like  that  which 
accompanies  animal  decomposition,  attended  the 
body  found  in  the  mound,  and  prevented  that 
examination  which  the  committee  were  disposed  to 
2five  it 


A  Walk  ii\  the  Fall.  37 

"The  committee  would  request  further  time  in 
making  up  their  report.  The  presence  of  scoriae  and 
ashes  in  great  abundance  in  the  mound  induces  a 
portion  of  the  committee  to  adhere  to  the  theory  of 
a  volcanic  origin.  The  only  point  upon  which  the 
committee  have  agreed  is,  that  the  origin  of  the 
mound  can  not  be  referred  to  the  azoic  period. 

"  The  presence  of  the  leaf  of  the  brassica  oleracea 
would  seem  to  warrant  the  conclusion  that,  at  some 
remote  period,  some  members  of  the  great  Scandina- 
vian family  visited  the  continent;  and  it  may  be  that 
they  erected  this  mound  in  order  to  celebrate  some 
religious  or  other  rite.  *  A  common  pine  board,  upon 
which  appeared  the  Runic  inspiration  'kabbich planz 
fur  seV  would  strengthen  this  idea;  but  upon  this 
point  your  committee  are  not  yet  agreed. 

"The  presence  of  a  specimen  of  the  genus  felis 
leads  Dr.  Andrew  to  argue  that,  at  whatever  period 
the  mound  was  formed,  there  must  have  existed 
cotemporaneously  rats  and  mice  and  political  meet- 
ings. The  offensive  odor  surrounding  the  specimen 
has  prevented  an  exhaustive  examination,  such  as 
the  committee  would  be  glad  to  give.  So  soon  as 
this  odor  abates  in  its  intensity,  an  examination  will 
be  held,  and  further  and  more  important  informa- 
tion will  undoubtedly  be  elicited. 

11  Conclusions  with  reference  to  the  specimen  re- 
sembling the  boot-sole  are  withheld,  in  order  to  give 
the  committee  time  for  more  extended  observation. 

"  In  submitting  this  fragmentary  report,  your 
committee  desire  simply  to  gratify  the  intense  curi- 
osity of  the  public  in  regard  to  this  remarkable 
mound.  We,  therefore,  present  our  labors  up  to  the 
present  time,  and  ask  the  indulgence  of  your  honor- 


38 


Walks  About  Chicago. 


able  and  learned  body,  and  of  the  public,  for  a  few 
weeks.  The  committee  are  not  without  the  hope 
that  further  time  will  result  in  a  cordial  unanimity 
of  opinion,  and  of  a  complete  explanation  of  the 
phenomena  attending  the  mound." 


ORPHEUS  IN  HADES, 

H  EOPLE  who  take  a  trip  around  town  any 
where  must  have    noticed  a  good   many 
highly-colored  bills,  upon  which  is  printed 
the  somewhat  profane  sentence:     "Orpheus  in 
Hell." 

It  has  also  been  rumored  about  town  that 
there  is  a  mysterious  secret  connected  with  this 
placarded  profanity.  Somebody  has  mentioned  to 
somebody  else  that  Orpheus  was  a  man  of  family, 
and  that  his  wife,  by  some  means  or  other,  got  into 
h— 11. 

This  slender  information,  bruiting  about,  has  crea- 
ted a  good  deal  of  inquiry  among  married  men. 
They  are  anxious  to  find  out  how  Mrs.  Orpheus  was 
sent  there;  and  whether  or  not  the  same  process  is 
available  at  the  present  day. 

As  to  Orpheus'  attempt  to  get  the  lady  out  of 
limbo,  there  is  no  curiosity  among  these  same  mar- 
ried men.  None  that  I  have  heard  of  take  the  least 
interest  in  this  part  of  the  story.  All  they  want  to 
know  is  how  she  was  gotten  there. 

What  bearing  this  curiosity  has  upon  the  condi- 
tion of  the  married  men  who  entertain  it,  must  be 
imagined. 

It  may  be  well  to  state  that  no  great  amount  of 
sympathy  is  expressed  by  these  married  men  when 
they  learn  that  the  effort  of  Orpheus  to  get  his  wife 
out  of  h — 11  was  an  ignominious  failure. 


40  Walks  About  Chicago. 

To  gratify  the  curiosity  of  these  married  men  in 
regard  to  this  affair,  I  will  summarize  its  principal 
points: 

Orpheus  was  a  young  man  who  lived  in  Thrace, 
a  good  many  centuries  ago.  He  was  a  sentimental 
young  man,  who  boarded  with  a  widow,  and  who 
used  to  amuse  himself  by  playing  on  a  flute  every 
night,  after  the  rest  of  the  boarders  had  retired. 

In  this  way  he  used  to  give  voice  to  his  otherwise 
unutterable  melancholy,  and  which  he  always  ad- 
dressed to  the  sweet  stars. 

One  night  when  he  was  tooting,  in  the  tenderest 
manner,  Le  Sabre  de-Mon  Pere — an  air  just  then  in- 
troduced— he  was  heard  by  a  young  seminary  girl 
named  Eurydice.  She  was  just  seventeen,  and  full 
of  gentle  poesy. 

She,  too,  was  afflicted  with  a  profound  melan- 
choly, which  came,  she  knew  not  whence.  She 
often  thought  it  would  be  so  sweet  to  die,  and  be 
buried  somewhere,  with  flowers  over  her  grave, 
and  have  a  nice  young  man  come  thither  and  weep 
over  her  untimely  end. 

She  read  Byron,  and  went  to  all  the  matinees. 
To  her  a  young  man  seemed  the  most  perfectly 
splendid  thing  that  ever  was  created. 

She  heard  the  plaintive  strains  of  Le  Sabre  de 
Mon  Pere,  as  they  stole  gently  through  the  starry 
night.  They  struck  a  responsive  chord  in  her 
maiden  heart. 

Suffice  it  that  these  two,  drawn  by  an  irresistible 
sympathy,  were  not  long  in  meeting  and  loving. 
An  engagement  followed,  and  then  a  wedding. 

It  was  a  grand  affair,  and  was  held  in  public,  in  a 
church.  A  great  many  tickets  were  issued,  and 
everybody  was  invited.  Hymen  himself  came  over 


Orpheus  in  Hades.  41 

to  attend  the  nuptials.  It  was  a  very  gorgeous  ar- 
rangement, and  was  fully  reported  at  the  time  in 
the  daily  newspapers.  The  names  and  dress  of  the 
bridesmaids  were  all  given;  and  the  bridal  presents, 
which  had  been  lent  for  the  occasion  by  an  accom- 
modating jeweller,  were  minutely  described. 

In  the  way  of  a  wedding  it  was  a  very  big  thing. 
The  nuptial  night  was  one  of  the  grandest  and  most 
interesting  known. 

But,  alas!  while  on  their  wedding  tour,  the  lovely 
bride  went  out  shopping  one  afternoon,  and  was 
bitten  by  a  demnition  snake.  This  afflicting  event 
is  thus  beautifully  alluded  to  by  Mr.  Ovid,  who  was, 
at  that  time,  "  doing  "  the  Jenkins  for  a  daily  news- 
paper: 

— "  Nam  nupta  per  herbas 
Dum  nova  Naiadum  turba  comitata  vagatur, 
Occidit,  in  talum  serpentis,  dente  recepto." 

Nothing  more  thrilling  was  ever  written. 

She  died  of  the  bite.  What  became  of  the  snake 
is  not  on  record.  She  was  "  snaked"  out  of  exist- 
ence. As  soon  as  she  was  dead  she  went  to  h — 11. 

In  ancient  times  all  women  went  thither. 

Is  there  any  evidence  that  the  modern  custom,  in 
this  respect,  is  any  different  from  the  ancient  one? 

Orpheus  felt  vexed  about  the  matter.  He  was  dis- 
turbed. It  made  him  uneasy.  At  length  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  after  her. 

Having  a  relative  who  was  a  Radical  member  of 
Congress,  he  had  110  difficulty  in  getting  letters  of 
introduction  to  Pluto,  and  to  a  good  many  intimate 
friends  and  relatives  of  congressmen  in  the  infernal 
regions.  Armed  with  these  documents,  Orpheus 
put  his  flute  in  his  pocket  and  started  on  his  journey, 
via  Chicago,  which  was  then,  as  it  now  is,  the 
shortest  route. 


42  Walks  About  Chicago. 

His  letter  of  introduction  to  Pluto  secured  him  a 
warm  and  cordial  reception.  Pluto  gave  him  a  pass- 
port all  through  his  dominions.  'He  agreed  that,  if 
Orpheus  should  find  his  wife,  he  might  take  her  out, 
on  conditions.  These  conditions  were,  that  she 
should  follow  her  husband  at  a  reasonable  distance 
so  as  not  to  attract  attention.  Orpheus  must  not 
look  back  towards  her;  because,  if  he  did,  everybody 
would  suspect  what  was  taking  place,  and  there 
would  result  a  row.  Pluto  was  averse  to  trouble. 
Since  the  Radicals  were  running  things  in  the 
United  States,  they  were  getting  ca  pretty  strong 
majority  in  this  section;  and  they  were  liable  to 
raise  the  d — euce  at  the  slightest  provocation.  They 
were  even  talking,  he  observed,  of  impeaching  him, 
and  kicking  him  out,  just  because  he  had  not  given 
them  all  the  brimstone  contracts. 

Orpheus  went  in.  It  was  rather  a  queer  place. 
The  first  person  he  met  asked  him  what  in  h — 11  he 
wanted? 

As  he  advanced  farther  and  farther  into  the 
murky  recesses,  he  was  solicited  with  strange  cries. 

"  Mister,  heouw  will  you  swop  jackknives?" 

"  Here's  your  Advance,  only  three  cents!" 

"  Here's  yer  only  regilar  copy  of  Hatfield's  speech 
on  the  assassination!" 

And  thus  saluted  by  the  infernal  clamor,  blinded 
by  the  smoke,  and  half -suffocated  by  the  sulphurous 
fumes,  Orpheus  penetrated  the  recesses  of  the  Tar- 
tarean regions  in  search  of  his  beloved  Eurydice. 

Strange  sights  met  his  eyes;  and  a  clamor  like  that 
of  Babel  stunned  his  ears. 

At  every  step  he  was  solicited  to  participate  in 
some  scheme — to  share  in  some  enterprise.  Now  he 
was  asked  to  enter  a  partnership  for  the  manufac- 


Orpheus  in  Hades.  43 

ture  and  sale  of  wooden  nutmegs.  Again,  he  was 
invited  by  former  members  of  the  Chicago  Board  of 
Trade  to  embark  in  "  going  long  "  on  sulphur. 

"Yer  see,"  said  one  of  the  latter,  "if  the  Rads 
carry  the  fall  elections,  there  will  be  a  rise  in  brim- 
stone, sure." 

But  the  bereaved  Orpheus  passed  on,  heedless  of 
the  voices,  and  always  bending  everywhere  his  mel- 
ancholy glances  in  search  of  his  beloved  Eurydice. 

At  length  he  reached  the  female  department.  It 
was  in  the  nethermost  depths  of  the  dominions  of 
the  Plutonian  monarch. 

Here  he  saw  a  singular  spectacle.  There  were 
long  streets,  upon  which  were  located  gorgeous 
bazars.  The  spirits  of  women  wandered  in  and 
out  incessantly,  pricing  goods,  and  buying  every 
thing  that  they  desired. 

The  torture  consisted  in  the  fact  that  each  woman 
had  to  pay  her  own  bills. 

In  a  distant  corner  of  a  large  shop  he  saw  his  own 
Eurydice  pricing  some  gorgeous  silks.  Her  large 
blue  eyes  were  filled  with  tender  melancholy ;  her 
soul  was  pervaded  by  a  nameless  terror. 

What  thus  terrified  her  was  the  anticipation  that 
she  alone  must  pay  for  the  mountains  of  stuff  which 
she  was  selecting. 

Placing  his  flute  to  his  lips,  he  commenced  play- 
ing "  I'll  follow  thee."  As  if  caught  by  some  invisi- 
ble but  powerful  chain,  Eurydice  dropped  a  superb 
watered  silk  and  commenced  to  follow  him  who  ad- 
vanced before  her  playing  upon  his  flute. 

It  was  in  vain  that  salesmen  along  the  route 
offered  her  the  most  magnificent  stuffs  at  reduced 
prices.  Curiosity,  the  strongest  motive  in  the  hu- 
man breast,  impelled  her  forward.  She  wished  to 


44  Walks  About  Chicago. 

know  who  it  was  that  preceded  her — him  of  the  ele- 
gant carriage,  the  melancholy  step,  and  the  flute 
that  gave  utterance  to  plaintive  murmurings. 

She  never  supposed  that  it  was  her  own  beloved 
Orpheus  ;  but  imagined  that  it  was  a  young  man, 
with  a  heavenly  moustache,  who  had  once  given  her 
a  seat  on  a  street-car. 

Meanwhile,  Orpheus  proceeded  on  towards  the 
mouth  of  the  infernal  pit.  His  eyes,  directed  in 
front  of  him,  were  fixed  upon  the  far  future.  He 
saw  a  beautiful  cottage  scene,  in  which  Eurydice 
and  himself  were  the  centre  pieces,  and  around 
which  revolved  and  gamboled  fair-haired,  innocent 
children. 

Through  the  murky  gloom  there  penetrated  a  ray 
of  light.  It  was  of  the  outer  world.  Before  him  he 
saw  dimly  the  yawning  gates  of  the  sulphurous  re- 
gions. A  burst  of  light  poured  through  them,  like 
the  rays  of  the  sun  between  two  black  clouds.  Al- 
ready he  felt  himself  free,  and  by  his  side,  Eurydice. 
Meanwhile  his  flute  kept  on  :  "  Whistle  and  I'll 
come  to  you  my  lad,"  "  Old  Dog  Tray,"  and  "  Home, 
Sweet  Home." 

Suddenly  there  rang  above  the  clamor  of  voices, 
and  the  roar  of  fires,  a  shriek.  Orpheus  recognized 
the  sweet  tones  of  his  Eurydice.  Forgetful  of  his 
promise  not  to  turn  his  head,  he  looked  back. 

He  had  just  time  to  see  a  Chicago  lawyer  offering 
to  procure  a  divorce  for  Eurydice  in  thirty  days, 
without  publicity,  when— 

He  suddenly  found  himself  impelled  by  some  tre- 
mendous power  through  the  open  gates,  which  closed 
behind  him  with  a  fierce  metallic  clang. 

He  was  flung  through  space  like  a  cannon-ball. 


Orpheus  in  Hades.  45 

When  he  recovered  his  full  consciousness,  he  was 
back  in  Thrace,  a  lonely  widower. 

And  this  is  the  story  of  Orpheus.  It  is  a  sad  and 
instructive  recital.  Let  married  men  then  study 
and  profit  by  its  lessons. 

Its  moral  is  this :  If  your  wife  gets  snake-bitten 

and  goes  to  the  Plutonian  domain don't  follow 

her. 


HOW  TO  QUIT  SMOKING. 


HERE  is  a  very  particular  friend  of  mine 
who  lives  on  The  Avenue.  It  does  not  make 
any  difference  which  avenue.      Inquiry  in 
this  direction  might  prove  damaging. 

I  may  add  that,  last  summer,  in  an  extended 
trip  of  several  months,  and  over  half  the  con- 
tinent, I  met  everywhere  people  from  Chicago.  I 
made  the  acquaintance  of  several  hundred  of  them, 
and  found  that  every  one  of  them  lived  '*  on  The 
Avenue."  If  anybody  ever  met  anybody  from  Chi- 
cago that  did  not  live  "  on  The  Avenue,"  then  some 
one  has  a  different  experience  from  what  I  have. 

Moreover,  I  never  met  anybody  any  where  who 
knew  anybody  in  Chicago,  without  it  happening  that 
the  Chicago  acquaintance  lived  "  on  The  Avenue." 
People  whom  one  meets  on  the  cars,  in  steamers,  on 
horseback,  or  on  foot,  in  any  part  of  the  globe,  who 
are  coming  on  a  visit  to  Chicago,  are  invariably 
going  to  see  somebody  who  lives  "on  The  Avenue." 
The  Avenue  of  Chicago  is  enormously  extensive, 
and  the  number  of  people  in  Chicago  who  are  on  it, 
is  marvelous. 

My  friend  who  lives  on  the  Avenue — it  is  neither 
Blue  Island  nor  Milwaukee  Avenue — sent  for  me 
last  Monday  night.  He  is  a  commission  merchant 
on  Water  Street,  like  almost  every  body  else  in  Chi- 
cago. He  is  a  man  of  family — his  own — and  is  aged 
about  forty  years, 


Hoiv  to  Quit  Smoking.  4< 

His  note  asking  me  to  come  up  was  in  haste,  and 
was  very  unlike  the  usual  clear,  business-like  chirog- 
raphy  of  my  friend.  The  letters  were  stranded  here 
and  there  along  the  lines,  as  though  they  were  a 
large  washing  hung  out  to  dry,  and  were  agitated  by 
a  high  wind. 

I  went  up  at  once.  Mrs.  Brown  admitted  me,  and 
bore  a  solemnity  upon  her  face  like  unto  that  of  a 
funeral.  In  response  to  my  inquiries  she  groaned 
portentously,  and  said  nothing.  She  led  me  to 
Brown's  room  opened  the  door  and  then  went 
away. 

I  was  horrified  at  what  met  my  vision.  My  hith- 
erto staid  and  respected  friend  sat  in  an  arm-chair, 
in  his  shirt-sleeves,  with  his  feet  in  a  bucket  of  hot 
water.  One  of  his  eyes  was  severely  in  mourning, 
and  shut  tight.  His  nose  had  grown  bulbous,  like  a 
prize  pear,  and  was  of  a  mixed  color,  in  which 
patches  of  fiery  red  and  deep  purple  alternated.  One 
of  his  ears  had  a  patch  over  it;  and  several  black- 
and-blue  places  revealed  themselves  on  his  bald,  and 
once  sliiny,  and  benevolent  pate. 

His  right  arm  was  done  up  in  bandages,  and  car- 
ried in  a  sling.  His  lips  were  ^swollen  out  enor- 
mously, and  in  a  way  that  brought  his  mouth  half 
way  around  to  his  left  ear.  A  long  strip  of  court- 
plaster  extended  across  his  cheek. 

"For  God's  sake,  Brown,  what's  the  matter?" 
I  exclaimed,  as  I  took  in  the  fearful  appearance  of 
one  whom  I  knew  to  be  high  up  in  a  lodge  of 
Good  Templars  that  meets  at  the  Washingtonian 
Home. 

"Matter!"  replied  the  bruised  spectacle,  in  a 
voice  that  seemed  to  percolate  through  tortuous 


48  Walks  About  Chicago. 

labyrinths — "  matter  !  you're  the  matter  !  That  d — d 
Sunday  Bullpen  is  what's  the  matter  !" 

<  '  The  Sunday  Bullpen  !  What !  That  Christianly 
and  poetic  production  the  cause  of  such  devastation 
and  ruin  as  this  ?  No,  sir  !  Never  !  Never  !" 

"Yes,  The  Sunday  Bullpen,  I  tell  you  !  " 

"  But — impossible  ! " 

"Impossible,  be  d — d!  You  just  listen  now,  and 
I'll  tell  you  ! " 

I  seated  myself,  and  thereupon  Brown  proceeded 
to  unfold  the  following  astonishing  tale : 

"You  know  I'm  a  great  smoker.  We  fellows 
who  supported  Grant  rather  pride  ourselves  on  imi- 
tating that  marvelous  leader.  So,  in  trying  to  imi- 
tate that  great  man,  I  got  into  the  habit  of  smoking 
about  twenty -five  cigars  a  day. 

"  Mrs.  Brown,  of  course,  didn't  like  it.  She  turned 
up  her  nose  whenever  I  pulled  out  a  cigar.  Some- 
times it  made  her  sick,  and  then  it  made  her  faint. 
But  I  noticed  one  thing,  my  boy,  and  that  was,  that 
when  Jinks  or  Jobbers  came  in  with  a  cigar,  she 
always  said  she  was  so  fond  of  cigars. 

"  Well,  the  old  woman  got  sick,  and  faint,  and 
sniffed  around  the  curtaics,  and  said  'faugh  !'  every 
time  she  came  near  me;  and  I  made  up  my  mind  it 
was  no  use.  You  can  always  do  the  same.  When 
a  woman  gets  after  you,  you  may  just  as  well  come 
down.  She'll  fetch  you  in  time,  see  if  she  don't.  A 
woman  will  just  outworry  the  devil,  when  she  gets 
started  after  any  thing. 

"  Last  Sunday  morning  one  of  the  boy's  read  The 
Sunday  Bullpen—  dern  the  infernal  sheet !  Among 
other  things,  he  read  an  article  on  tobacco,  by  some 
M.  D.  of  the  name  of  Johnson,  or  Jackson.  Here's 
the  paper.  You  look  along  towards  the  last  of  that 


How  to  Quit  Smoking.  49 

tobacco  article,  and  read  what  he  says  about  an 
antidote  to  smoking." 

Looking  through  the  article  in  question,  I  found 
and  read  the  following: 

"I would  suggest,  however,  to  those  desiring  to  break  the 
habit,  the  following  prescription:  Take,  in  the  morning,  about 
three  drachms  of  whisky,  and  smoke  none;  in  the  afternoon 
repeat  the  dose;  continue  this  three  weeks:  and  if  the  habit  of 
smoking  be  not  broken,  I  have  missed  my  mark.  You  will,  prob- 
ably, always  like  the  flavor  of  a  good  cigar;  but,  with  some  firm- 
ness, you  can  easily  overcome  the  desire.  The  tobacco  being 
withdrawn,  the  whisky  substitutes  itself  and  dissipates  the  desire 
to  smoke." 

"Yes,  that's  it,"  said  Brown.  "The  old  woman 
had  been  worryin'  me,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  I 
might  as  well  quit.  The  remedy  didn't  seem  a  bad 
one  to  take.  By  and  by  I  slipped  out,  went  round 
to  a  corner  saloon,  and  took  the  prescription  of  three 
drams,  at  intervals  of  about  ten  minutes. 

"  The  thing  worked  beautiful.  I  didn't  want  to 
smoke,  but  I  did  want  another  dram,  and  I  took  an- 
other. This  made  me  kind  o'  thirsty,  and  so  I  took 
one  more.  By  this  time  I  felt  very  sorry  for  some 
seedy  chaps  sittin'  around  the  stove,  and  I  invited 
'em  all  to  take  a  drink.  I  afterwards  took  a  drink, 
at  my  expense,  with  the  bar-keeper,  who  seemed  a 
mighty  nice  sort  of  a  man. 

"  I  don't  remember  very  clearly  what  happened 
after  this.  I  think  I  proposed  to  a  chap  with  a  big 
moustache  to  go  and  take  a  buggy-ride  up  The  Ave- 
nue. I  think  somebody  got  a  buggy,  and  we  got  in, 
after  taking  another  dram  to  keep  me  from  wanting 
to  smoke  in  public. 

"They  say  that  I  acted  like  one  wild  on  The  Avenue. 
Every  body  was  going  to  church,  it  seems,  and  I 


50  Walks  About  Chicago. 

must  have  played  the  very  thunder  !  All  I  remem- 
ber about  it  is,  that  last  night,  about  seven  o'clock, 
I  waked  up  and  found  myself  in  the  sawdust  in  the 
armory.  My  hat  was  gone ;  my  coat  was  torn  in 
two,  up  the  back  ;  my  shirt-front  ripped  into  ribr 
bons  ;  both  pockets  turned  inside  out ;  my  money 
gone  ;  and  myself  the  bruised  and  broken  reed  which 
you  see  before  you. 

"  I  won't  stop  to  tell  you  of  my  frightful  horror 
during  the  night.  This  morning  I  was  thrust  into  a 
hole  called  a  '  bull-pen,'  with  about  seventy-five  of 
the  worst  looking  he  and  she  loafers  in  Chicago.  I 
spare  you  my  agony  upon  being  called  out  in  full 
view  of  the  justice,  police,  reporters,  and  public.  I 
was  accused  of  disorderly  conduct.  Seven  police- 
men swore  that  they  had  chased  me  for  over  three 
hours.  They  said  I  drove  over  four  children,  and  dogs 
without  number  ;  that  I  lost  my  hat,  and  went  bare- 
headed, giving  an  Indian  war-whoop  every  fifteen 
seconds  ;  that  several  runaways  occurred  in  conse- 
quence of  my  furious  driving  and  yelling  ;  and  that, 
when  finally  caught,  I  fought  and  kicked  so  that 
they  had  to  club  me  severely  before  I  would  submit 
and  go  to  the  lock-up. 

"I  was  fined  8100,  and  was  called  a  hardened  rep- 
robate by  the  corpulent  old  hypocrite  who  tried 
me.  I  gave  him  a  check  for  the  amount,  which  a 
policeman  went  out  with,  and  when  he  came  back, 
I  was  released. 

"You  see,  all  this  happened  on  account  of  that  in- 
fernal Sunday  Bullpen.  I  want  you  to  go  to  the  office 
and  stop  the  cursed  thing.  If  I  ever  can  find  that 
fellow  Johnson,  or  Jackson,  I'll  mellow  his  counten- 
ance just  as  sure  as  my  name's  Timothy  Brown — 


Hoiv  to  Quit  Smoking.  51 

see  if  I  don't !  Dern  his  everlasting  skin,  teeth, 
eyes,  and  toe-nails  !" 

"What  did  Mrs.  Brown  say  when  you  returned?" 
asked  I,  as  Brown  concluded  his  lugubrious  narra- 
tion with  a  ponderous  sigh. 

"What  did  she  say?  Ker-r-i-s-t !  Wh-e-e-w !" 
And  this  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  Brown  as  to  what 
was  said  by  his  martyred  helpmeet. 

I  comforted  poor  old  Brown  as  well  as  I  could  ; 
but  I  did  not  tell  him  that  there  was  a  very  material 
difference  between  "three  drachms"  and  "three 
drams"  of  whisky.  Some  other  time  I  shall  tell 
him ;  and,  meanwhile,  I  invoke  the  prayers  of  all 
kindly  souls  in  his  behalf,  and  to  shield  him  from 
the  righteous  indignation  of  that  deeply  injured  and 
austere  matron  Mrs.  Timothy  Brown. 


MILL  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 


MAN  who  was  around  town  much  during 
a  certain  week,  must  have  noticed  that, 
~*a  during  the  fore  part  of  the  week,  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  talk  about  Duffy  and  Bussy;  and 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  week,  a  good  deal 
of  talk  about  Bussy  and  Duffy. 
Bussy  and  Duffy  are  not  names  remarkable  for 
resonance,  symmetry,  or  style.  They  are  not  the 
kind  that  usually  go  down  to  posterity.  They  go 
down  the  stream  of  time,  it  is  true,  but  they  will  go 
down,  as  some  ships  go  down — that  is,  to  the 
bottom. 

During  the  fore  part  of  the  week,  Duffy  was  a 
great  man.  There  were  odds  in  favor  of  the  popular 
notion  that  Mr.  Duffy  was  a  greater  man  than  Mr. 
Bussy.  These  odds  took  a  tangible  form — some- 
what like  $100  to  $75.  That  is,  stamps  had  it  that 
Duffy  was  the  heavier  sockdollager  of  the  two  sock- 
dollagers. 

It  was  observable  that,  after  Wednesday,  the 
weathercocks  of  public  opinion,  which  had  hitherto 
all  set  persistently  Duffy  wards,  all  pointed  rigidly 
Bussy- wards,  as  if  they  had  never  pointed  otherwise 
in  all  their  lives.  How  the  currents  of  general  esti- 


Mill  on  the  Prairie.  53 

mation  all  thus  reversed  their  direction,  and  set  the 
vanes  to  pointing  contrariwise,  is  a  matter  worthy 
of  description — of  speculation — of  research. 

II. 

On  a  certain  Wednesday  morning  of  that  notable 
week — week  ever  notable  as  the  Bussy-Duffy  week — 
many  people  came  out  of  the  mist  and  centred  about 
the  grounds  where  a  certain  railroad  has  not  yet 
erected  large  and  surpassing  passenger  and  ticket 
buildings.  Variety  was  observable  among  this 
crowd.  Many  looked  as  if  fresh  from  the  arms  of 
sleep.  A  diffused  redness  of  eyes  bore  witness  to 
vigils,  and  mayhap  of  undue  stimulant.  There  was 
a  noticeable  prevalence  of  breadth  of  chest.  There 
was  likewise  a  fashionable  style  of  countenance,  in 
the  which  there  were  evidences  of  knuckle  inunda- 
tions that  had  carried  away  nose-bridges.  Under- 
jaw  was  there  in  force.  There  was  likewise  much 
large  mouth,  somewhat  of  an  open  carpet-sack 
order. 

One  who  looked  over  this  crowd,  tha't  had  trickled 
from  out  the  surrounding  mist,  could  not  but  reflect 
upon  the  vast  amount  of  indignant,  and  deceived, 
and  outraged  wif  ehood,  that  existed  here  and  there 
all  over  Chicago.  What  remonstrances  must  have 
poured  from  wifely  lips  when  masculine  married- 
ness  timidly  asserted  its  intention  of  going  to  the 
prize-fight!  What  suspicions  must  have  grown  in 
virtuous  bosoms  when  pater  familias  arose  at  the 
unseasonable  hour  of  six  A.  M.,  and  asserted  that 
urgent  business  required  an  early  advent  into  town! 

One  prominent  atom  of  social  respectability  told 
his  astounded  partner  that  he  was  obliged  to  go  out 


54  Walks  About  Chicago. 

on  an  early  train  to  "  inspect  a  mill."  Oh,  woman! 
even  the  question  of  Bussy  versus  Duffy  could  not 
be  discussed  without  exposing  you  to  man's  deceit 
and  machinations. 

Large  professional  and  otherwise  respectability 
had  assembled  in  the  crowd,  and  with  its  high  noses 
and  soft,  slender  hands,  toned  down  the  tendency  to 
flatness  in  snouts,  and  to  bony  hugeness  in  fists,  of 
the  dominant  majority,  One  moving  among  the 
crowd,  and  familiar  with  the  faces  of  noted  charac- 
ters, could  readily  discover  Brothers  Moody  and 
Farwell,  Reverends  Hatfield  and  Ryder,  Judges  Van 
Bureii  and  Wilson,  and  many  other  prominent  phi- 
lanthropists, clergymen  and  judges,  as  among  the 
more  noted  of  those  who,  from  motives  of  delicacy 
or  lack  of  time,  had  concluded  not  to  be  present. 

Nearly  all  the  crowd,  being  in  no  particular  hurry, 
determined  to  wait  and  ride  out  on  the  cars,  in  place 
of  going  a-foot. 

III. 

And  it  came  to  happen  that,  about  high  twelve  or 
a  little  thereafter,  some  thousand  or  more  people,  on 
this  particular  Wednesday,  formed  themselves  into 
a  hollow  square,  which,  by  measurement  with  a 
tape-line,  from  a  reporter  with  a  note-book,  in  one 
corner,  to  a  gentleman  with  a  broken  nose,  in  the 
next  corner,  was  four  and  twenty  feet.  Dense  to 
extreme  were  the  living  walls  of  this  square.  Look- 
ing from  the  centre  outwards,  there  seemed  four 
floors  of  human  heads — floors  which  began  some- 
where in  an  inextricable  jumble  of  legs  and  boots, 
and  rose  gradually  outward,  like  an  inclined  plane. 
Somewhat  resembled  these  four  walls  the  approach- 
ing sides  of  a  hopper  in  a  grist  mill — hence,  perhaps, 


Mill  on  the  Prairie.  55 

why  the  central  operations  of  the  former  are  called 
a  "  mill."  So  evenly  rose  these  walls  or  floors  of 
heads,  and  so  dense  were  they,  that,  with  but  little 
caulking,  they  would  have  shed  water  like  a  roof. 

Close  adjoining  was  a  hay-stack.  Sheltered  under 
its  lee  was  an  object  at  which  a  small  crowd  stared 
curiously.  It  bore  some  resemblance  to  a  man — a 
sick  man.  Eyes  of  a  dull,  milky  color;  countenance 
ashen;  and  bones  of  jaw  and  cheek  seeming  on  the 
point  of  bursting  through  the  skin.  As  if  agueish  or 
suffering,  the  figure  lay  with  its  knees  drawn  up  to 
its  chin,  and  hugged  an  old  overcoat  about  its  form, 
as  if  to  accumulate  a  little  warmth.  A  heavy  fur 
cap  was  drawn  over  its  head;  and  it  rested  limp  and 
nerveless,  chewing  straws  abstractedly,  as  it  life 
were  an  unwelcome  reality.  Poor  devil! 

A  little  later,  and  over  the  heads  of  the  hollow 
square  there  comes  a-wobbling  what  looks  on  its 
passage  like  a  dead  cat  flung  vigorously  upward  by 
the  tail.  It  is  an  old  fur  cap,  as  is  seen  when  it 
lights.  An  irregular  commotion,  cleaving  its  way 
through  a  corner  of  the  hollow  square,  like  a  slightly 
submerged  log  being  pushed  up  stream.  Tremen- 
dous hi-hi's,  and  there  is  evacuated  centreward  the 
limping  figure  of  the  hay-stack.  His  head  reveals 
hair  close-cropped,  coming  down  to  a  triangular 
point  on  his  forehead,  like  a  colossal  saw-tooth. 
Ears  immense,  mouth  an  enormous  gash.  He  sham- 
bles across  to  his  corner  in  a  gait  which  is  a  mixture 
of  limp  in  both  feet  and  a  dog-trot.  Mainly  dog- 
trot, however;  for  his  head  bowing  awkward  ac- 
knowledgments to  chorused  hi-hi's,  his  slouched 
shoulders  and  thrust  out  arms  make  him  resemble  a 
dog  essaying  a  trot  on  his  hind  legs.  He  seats  him- 
self. It  is  the  agueish  invalid  of  the  hay-stack.  It 


56  Walks  About  Chicago. 

is  the  then  less  renowned,  but  now  the  more  re- 
nowned Bussy. 

More  semblance  of  dead  cat  flopping  into  ring, 
more  convolutions  and  wriggles  in  human  wall, 
more  hi-hi's,  and  the  then  more  renowned,  but  now 
less  renowned,  Duffy.  Not  a  beauty  is  Mr.  Duffy, 
any  more  than  his  vis-a-vis,  Mr.  Bussy.  But  a  dif- 
ference, nevertheless.  Less  slouch,  less  mouth,  less 
ears.  A  long  face,  short  upper  lip,  prominent  nose, 
some  front  teeth  somewhere  lost  on  some  former 
similarity,  close-cropped  hair,  mild  gray  eyes,  a 
skin  with  a  dash  of  color  in  it,  and  a  semi-anxious, 
semi-equable  expression — such,  Duffy. 

Adjoining  to  and  hovering  about  Mr.  Duffy,  a 
Colossus,  like  an  elephant  reared  to  the  perpendicu- 
lar, and  clad  fashionably.  In  the  vast  shoulders, 
bull-neck,  little,  cunning  eyes,  and  small  nose,  one 
recognizes  the  giant  bruiser,  McCoole.  Diagonally 
across,  and  doing  the  planetary  about  the  invalid  of 
the  hay-stack,  is  a  good  looking,  medium  sized  gen- 
tleman, in  full  suit  of  black,  with  plug  hat  and  natty 
cane.  His  black  hair  is  elaborately  parted;  his  chest 
is  round  and  full;  his  nose  immense;  his  eyes  small, 
black,  and  piercing;  his  countenance  full,  pleasant, 
and  open.  He  looks  like  a  foreman  in  a  machine 
shop.  It  is  Joe  Coburn,  who  supposes  himself  the 
foremost  mauler  in  existence.  Some  other  lesser 
lights  in  parti-colored  shirts,  and  the  outlines  of  the 
picture  are  sufficiently  complete. 

IV. 

They  all  feel  sorry  for  poor  Bussy.  He  looks  like 
an  old  man  in  feeble  health.  He  sits  bent  forward, 
with  his  clasped  fingers  holding  his  knees.  Duffy 


Mill  on  the  Prairie.  57 

sits  erect,  calmly  surveying  the  crowd,  and  curi- 
ously his  opponent.  Bussy  looks  furtively  at  Duffy 
and  the  crowd,  like  a  penned  dog  reconnoitering 
for  a  hole  through  which,  with  dropped  tail,  he  may 
escape  imagined  turpentine,  tin  kettles,  and  mal- 
treatment. 

There  is  a  peeling  of  old  coats.  Then  old  pants 
follow  suit.  Then  knitted  vests,  ragged  undershirts, 
and  multifarious  underwear;  and  Bussy  and  Duffy 
stand  in  spiked  shoes  and  tight-fitting  drawers. 
Bussy  still  slouched,  Duffy  erect. 

Some  body  says,  "Time."  In  a  fraction  of  a  sec- 
ond two  figures,  naked  to  the  hips,  confront  each 
other  in  the  centre  of  the  four-cornered  "ring."  The 
agueish  figure  of  the  invalid  of  the  hay-stack  has 
suddenly  become  transformed.  The  slouch  has  left 
his  shoulders.  Well  balanced  on  his  legs,  he  stands 
with  expanded  chest,  and  head  well  thrown  back. 
All  over  his  arms  and  breast  appear  knobs  of  muscle. 
Poised  like  a  statue,  he  seems  to  have  suddenly 
become  the  impersonation  of  power.  A  smile  just 
lifts  his  upper  lip  enough  to  disclose  a  row  of  white, 
even  teeth.  Into  his  dull,  milky  eyes  there  seems 
flowing  a  white,  sinister  light. 

Duffy,  the  favorite,  stands  easily.  His  body  is 
round,  his  limbs  slender.  He  seems  more  like  a 
grayhound  than  a  bulldog — built  more  for  the  chase 
than  for  conflict.  With  his  longer  arms  and  taller 
form,  he  seems  to  possess  an  advantage  over  his 
shorter  opponent. 

Their  eyes  are  fastened  each  upon  the  other.  The 
naked  arms  work  unceasingly,  and  the  two  bodies 
move  about  as  if  seeking  some  vulnerable  approach. 
A  moment  later  and  two  arms  shoot  forward  like 
lightning;  then  a  clinch,  a  fierce  tugging  and  inter- 


58  Walks  About  Chicago. 

twining,  and  the  two  forms  go  down  together.  Two 
men  rush  from  each  of  two  corners;  two  pick  up 
and  carry  one-half  of  the  struggling  mass  to  one  cor- 
ner, and  two  take  the  remainder  to  the  other.  Seated 
each  upon  the  knee  of  his  second,  the  panting  con- 
testants gaze  eagerly  at  each  other.  Two  bright-red 
spots  have  suddenly  flashed  upon  the  ashen  forehead 
of  Bussy.  Duffy  sits  unmarked  and  calmly  compla- 
cent. The  battle  is  opened.  In  thirty  seconds  it 
will  be  resumed. 

V. 

Thirty  minutes  have  passed.  Upon  Duffy  there 
are  no  marks  save  here  and  there  upon  his  body  red 
spots,  which  look  as  if  blistered.  Bussy's  left  eye  is 
entirely  closed.  A  dark,  pulpy  mass  overhangs  it 
like  a  cliff.  Blood  trickles  from  his  cheek  bones, 
his  mouth,  and  neck. 

Despite  this,  Bussy  is  not  hideous — not  even 
repellant.  As  he  faces  his  antagonist,  his  single 
eye  blazes  with  a  determination  that  transfigures 
him.  He  is  no  more  a  pummeled,  unsightly  bruiser, 
but  a  hero.  Amidst  the  foam  and  blood  on  his 
swollen  lips,  there  plays  a  smile,  a  reflex  of  endur- 
ance, which  lightens  and  softens  his  whole  face 
like  a  halo. 

Hereabouts  lies  the  savage  fascination  of  the 
scene.  Curious  as  it  may  seem,  there  is  just  a  touch 
of  the  sublime  about  that  battered,  swollen  face, 
with  its  blazing  eye,  and  lambent  smile  touching  up 
the  distorted  and  foam-colored  lips. 

Absorbed  in  the  antagonism  of  the  contest,  the 
spectators  feel  no  pity  for  the  tremendous  punish- 
ment. It  may  even  be  believed  that  the  men  do  not 


Mill  on  the  Prairie.  59 

feel  it  themselves  at  the  moment.  In  the  excite- 
ment, the  fierce  struggles,  the  alternating  hopes 
and  fears,  pain  is  forgotten. 

While  there  was  a  dash  of  the  sublime,  there  was 
a  touch  of  the  pitiful.  It  was  at  the  moment  when, 
torn  from  each  other's  grasp  and  seated  upon  the 
knees  of  their  seconds,  each  turned  panting  to  see 
how  the  other  stood  the  battle;  and  one  could  read 
the  plainly  expressed  hope  that  the  terrific  struggle 
which  had  just  ended  had  also  finished  the  endur- 
ance of  the  other.  Each  time,  before  the  veil  of 
blood  was  wiped  away  from  the  eye  of  Bussy,  he 
would  interrogate  the  condition  of  his  opponent  for 
signs  of  exhaustion.  And  now  many  times  during 
the  hard  struggle  did  Duffy  scan  with  eager  anxiety 
the  opposite  corner  for  some  evidence  that  the  con- 
test was  about  ended ! 

VI. 

All  this  is  about  a  couple  of  unknown  Celtic  scala- 
wags, who,  a  month  before,  were  nameless,  and 
whom  respectability,  a  fortnight  after,  had  forgot- 
ten. And  yet  these  two  Celtic  nobodies  were  for  an 
hour  transfigured  into  glowing  heroes.  To  all  of 
which  the  many  very  respectable  gentlemen  present 
— not  the  roughs,  thieves,  or  bruisers — will  bear 
willing  or  unwilling  witness. 

P.  S. — The  writer  wishes  to  add  that  an  attempt 
to  get  up  a  chicken-match,  out  of  the  fowls  of  the 
above  alluded  to  prize  fight,  was  not  a  success. 


GOING  TO  THE  MATINEE. 

TOOK  a  walk  around,  the  other  afternoon, 
to  a  matinee,  at  one  of  the  popular  places  of 
amusement.     It  makes  no  particular  differ- 
ence which  one.    Two  matinees  are  a  good  deal 
like  two  peas.     After  you  get  in,  you  can't  tell 
them  apart. 

I  went  around  early  to  get  a  seat.  Found  seve- 
ral hundred  young  women  and  several  men,  who  had 
gone  around  early  for  the  same  reason.  The  en- 
trance was  densely  packed  with  a  crowd  whose  tail 
extended  out  into  the  street. 

I  reached  there  just  at  the  same  moment  that  did 
a  sweet  young  girl  with  a  very  white-and-pink  com- 
plexion, a  "  f ollow-me-f ellers  "  over  her  shoulder, 
and,  on  her  lips,  carnation.  She  gazed  at  the  dense 
crowd  before  her,  and  then  remarked  to  a  gentleman 
with  a  dyed  moustache,  "Watch  me  go  through 
there,  will  you,  hoss?" 

The  lovely  creature  squared  herself,  lowered  her 
head,  advanced  her  elbows— and  went  in.  I  availed 
myself  of  the  opportunity,  and  followed  in  her  wake. 
It  was  delightful,  especially  the  remarks  we  heard. 
One  superb  being  proposed  to  mash  the  nose  of  my 
conductress.  Another  exquisite  thing  announced 
her  intention  to  "go  for  "  my  leader.  Another  gen- 
tle angel  wanted  to  know,  with  a  good  deal  of  as- 
perity, who  the  h — 11  she  was  crowding? 


Going  to  the  Matinee.  61 

As  we  progressed  slowly  ahead,  all  the  women 
who  were  at  the  rear  of  the  crowd  fell  in  behind  us, 
and  pushed  forward.  The  mass  then  presented  the 
singular  spectacle  of  a  solid  body,  through  whose 
centre  there  ran  a  current.  So  soon  as  the  head  of 
this  current  reached  the  door,  the  sides  of  the  mass 
began  to  form  currents  towards  the  street.  These 
two  currents,  meeting  at  the  street,  joined,  and  began 
to  flow  down  the  middle  again,  toward  the  door. 
Three  times  did  I  find  myself  at  the  door,  and  as 
often  in  the  street.  The  currents  were  resistless; 
the  jam  was  tremendous. 

By  and  by  the  door  opened  and  we  went  in.  Ther' 
was  some  tall  running.  The  exhibition  afforded  of 
pedal  extremities  was  like  a  picture  in  some  modern 
flash  publication.  They  were  quite  as  numerous, 
and  a  good  deal  more  of  them  were  shown.  Red 
flannel  under-skirts  are  still  worn,  but  very  short. 

The  agility  and  other  things  displayed  by  the 
ladies  in  getting  over  the  backs  of  seats,  and  locat- 
ing themselves  in  the  best  places,  were  singularly 
wonderful. 

After  awhile  we  got  seats — that  is,  about  half  of 
us.  The  other  half  of  us  stood  up.  Among  those 
who  stood  up  were  about  thirty  engaging  gentlemen 
with  dyed  moustaches  and  modest  faces.  These  gen- 
tlemen arranged  themselves  around  the  outer  aisles 
in  a  position  fronting  the  ladies. 

They  appeared  to  be  young  men  of  great  wealth. 
They  had  immense  diamonds,  and  watch-chains  of 
fabulous  dimensions.  Evidently  they  were,  some  of 
them,  from  the  Lake  Superior  mining  country,  for  I 
heard  them  talk  about  "coppering"  something. 
Another  of  the  aristocratic  vouths  was  evidently  a 


62  Walks  About  Chicago. 

theological  student,  for  he  said  something  about 
having  had  a  "  call." 

It  was  about  an  hour  and  a  half  before  the  play 
began.  The  interim  was  occupied  by  the  ladies  in 
a  discussion  of  their  own  little  affairs,  and  in  criti- 
cisms upon  each  other.  There  was  a  tremendous 
clatter,  in  which  one  could  hear  nothing  distinctly, 
unless  addressed  to  him.  I  caught  scraps  of  re- 
marks, to-wit: 

"  Is  them  diamonds  on " 

"  You  bet  they  ain't.     Where " 

"Where  d'ye  suppose  she  got  her  good  clothes, 
if  she " 

"  Oh  my!  just  look  at  that  hat " 

"  Painted,  of  course " 

"Lives  on  Fourth  Avenue,  with " 


"  Jim  thinks  I'm  out  on  the  West  side " 

"  Went  to  the  office  and  told  John  I  was  going  out 

to— 

"Wouldn't   have  Mr.    Johnson  know    I'm  here 

for " 


"  See  that  feller  making  signs  to  me  with 

"Keeps  a  faro-bank  on  Dearborn " 

"  If   you  please,  ma'am,  just  keep  your  elbow 

out " 

"The  h— 11  you  say " 

"  Couldn't  meet  you  last  night,  because  my  hus- 
band sus " 

'  At  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  night,  on  the  corner 

of  State  and " 

"  My  !  what  singular  ladies  these  Chicago " 

"  Ain't  it  jolly?    Our  folks  don't  suspect " 

"  Billy's  gone  back  on " 

"  Come  around  to-morrow  evening.     John  is  going 


Going  to  the  Matinee.  63 

And  thus  the  concert  went  on,  mingled  with  ten 
thousand  allusions  to  dry  goods,  laces,  poplin,  illu- 
sion, and  other  things  which  were  Greek  or  Chal- 
daic  to  unsophisticated  person,  who,  like  myself, 
had  never  served  an  apprenticeship  in  a  dry -goods 
establishment. 

The  aristocratic  young  men  with  dyed  moustaches 
were  particularly  modest.  No  one  of  them  whom  I 
saw  ever  stared  more  than  one  woman  out  of  coun- 
tenance  at  a  time.  Some  of  the  women  didn't 

stare  out  of  countenance  worth  a  cent.  It  was  about 
an  even  thing  when  some  of  the  latter  and  the  youths 
with  the  dyed  moustaches  got  to  looking  at  each 
other.  Whichever  yielded  first,  usually  did  so  with 
a  modest  wink  at  the  other. 

Asa  whole  I  was  very  much  impressed  with  the 
matinee.  The  ladies  were  remarkably  beautiful. 
They  were  dressed  in  a  manner  gorgeous  beyond 
all  description.  Their  elbows  were  of  a  universal 
sharpness,  of  which  I  have  patterns  of  one  hundred 
and  eighteen  different  ones  on  my  body.  They  were 
as  modest  in  their  conversation  as  in  their  dress. 
The  bearing  of  many  of  them  was  as  modest  as  their 
conversation.  They  were  calculated  to  impress  a 
beholder  very  highly. 

The  perfumery  was  elegant.  I  rec9gnized  twenty- 
seven  different  kinds  of  French  extracts  ;  eleven 
varieties  of  old  Bourbon  ;  ninety-four  of  Trix  ;  sixteen 
of  onions  ;  besides  a  variety  of  others,  such  as  cloves, 
sherry,  cardamon,  lager,  tobacco,  cheese ;  and  ex- 
clusive of  seventeen  other  species  whose  character 
I  could  not  recognize. 

The  matinees  are  fine  things.  There  should  be 
more  of  them.  They  cultivate  feminine  muscle.  They 
develop  woman's  love  of  the  drama,  her  powers  of 


64  Walks  About  Chicago. 

observation,  and  numerous  other  qualities  too  num- 
erous to  mention.  I  did  not  observe  any  husbands 
present  with  their  wives.  Nor  did  I  notice  any 
wives  present  with  their,  husbands. 

In  fine,  the  matinee  is  a  res  magna.  There  should 
be  one  every  afternoon.  It  should  be  some  time 
after  noon.  The  longer  the  better. 


THE  OLD  MAN'S  SMOKE,  ETC. 

N  a  family  up  town  there  is  an  individual 
known  among  his  more  intimate  friends  as 
the  "Old  Man."  The  Old  Man  is  "rising" 
of  seven  years  old,  and  is  a  regular  old  patri- 
arch  in  the  way  of  knowing  things.  The  other 
day  Madame,  who  is  the  Old  Man's  maternal 
relative,  came  down  stairs.  As  Madame  stepped 
into  the  room,  the  Old  Man  had  just  lighted  a  cigar, 
and  was  essaying  his  maiden  smoke.  He  sat  upon 
the  sofa,  with  his  legs  crossed  like  an  old  veteran. 
His  parental  relative's  broad-brimmed  hat  covered 
his  head,  and  he  held  his  cigar  gracefully  between 
his  first  and  second  fingers. 

Madame,  being  sensible,  did  not  faint,  or  "go  for" 
her  slipper,  but  took  a  book  and  sat  down  to  watch 
operations.  The  Old  Man  had  watched  for  her 
appearance  dubiously;  but  her  unconcern  reassured 
him,  and  he  queried,  after  a  vast  puff  of  smoke,  and 
with  immense  nonchalance,  "What's  your  opinion 
of  rats?" 

And  the  Old  Man  was  happy.  He  discussed  the 
weather  with  Madame  as  if  he  were  an  old  gentle- 
man who  had  called  in  to  chat  over  the  affairs  of  the 
neighborhood.  Madame  replied  indifferently,  as  if 
absorbed  in  her  book,  but  all  the  while  keeping  the 
corner  of  an  eye  upon  the  veteran  on  the  sofa. 

The  Old  Man  progressed  swimmingly.  Pussy 
was  called  up,  and  disgusted  with  the  phenomenon 


66  Walks  About  Chicago. 

of  an  unexpected  quart  of  smoke  in  her  eyes  and 
nostrils.  "Bob,"  a  female  kitchen  mechanic,  was 
invited  in  by  the  Old  Man  to  witness  how  he  could 
"smoke  through  his  nose."  He  hauled  up  a  chair 
and  raised  his  ten-inch  legs  clear  to  the  top  of  the 
back,  did  this  Old  Man.  And  all  the  time  he  smoked 
with  the  coolness  of  a  Turk. 

Life  opened  up  roseately  before  the  Old  Man.  A 
future  revealed  itself  through  the  smoke,  which 
was  half  cigar  and  half  meerschaum.  A  cigar  was 
to  be  smoked  every  morning  after  breakfast.  A 
negotiation  was  effected  with  Madame  wherewith 
to  buy  a  cigar  at  recess.  In  the  evening  a  pipe.  A 
pipe  which  he  was  to  color.  A  beautiful,  white  pipe, 
which  was  to  be  purchased  by  the  sale  of  a  ball,  two 
colored  buttons,  and  a  kite-string.  Never  was  there 
such  a  future  or  such  a  pipe. 

And  in  thus  dreaming,  and  planning,  and  chatting, 
the  Old  Man  smoked — now  sending  a  current  from 
his  nostrils,  now  driving  it  out  with  a  furious  blast, 
and  anon  puffing  it  forth  in  detached  cloudlets. 

The  cigar  was  smoked  to  the  very  lip,  and  then 
the  Old  Man  thought  he  would  try  a  pipe.  Taking 
down  the  meerschaum,  he  scraped  it  out  scientific- 
ally with  his  jackknife,  filled  it,  and  resumed  his 
seat  on  the  sofa,  and  lifted  his  ten-inch  legs  to  the 
chair-back.  During  all  this  time  the  Old  Man's  face 
was  as  serene,  his  smile  as  genial,  and  his  talk  as 
agreeable,  as  if  earth  were  affording  its  highest 
enjoyments. 

It  was  an  ancient  pipe,  with  much  nicotine  lurk- 
ing in  its  tubular  communications.  Occasionally 
some  of  the  nicotine  invaded  the  Old  Man's  tongue, 
whereat  he  grimaced  somewhat — nothing  more. 


The  Old  Man's  Smoke,  Etc.  67 

The  meerschaum  was  half  smoked  out.  Once  or 
twice,  in  the  course  of  absorbing  converse,  it  went 
out,  but  was  at  once  relighted  with  many  a  resonant 
puff.  The  pipe  was  half  smoked,  and  then  there 
came  a  single,  pearly  drop  of  perspiration  creeping 
out  from  the  Old  Man's  hair  upon  his  forehead.  A 
moment  later  another  stole  from  some  covert  and 
stood  upon  his  chin.  About  this  moment  something 
seemed  suddenly  to  strike  the  Old  Man.  A  cheer- 
ful remark  was  abruptly  broken  off  in  the  centre, 
and  the  Old  Man  suddenly  stopped  as  if  to  reflect 
upon  something  unexpected — somewhat  as  if  he  had 
just  remembered  that  his  note  was  over-due,  or  he 
had  suddenly  recollected  that  his  two  children  had 
died  five  minutes  before,  or  that  he  was  to  be  hanged 
in  three  minutes,  and  had  entirely  overlooked  the 
fact. 

He  took  down  his  legs  from  the  chair,  laid  aside 
the  broadbrim,  and  started  to  put  up  the  pipe. 

"  Why  don't  you  finish  your  smoke?"  inquired  the 
Madame. 

"  I — b'lieve — I've — smoked — 'nuff,"  replied  the  Old 
Man,  as  he  walked  with  an  uneven  step  to  put  up 
the  pipe.  When  he  came  back,  the  drops  of  per- 
spiration upon  the  chin  and  forehead  were  rein- 
forced by  hosts  of  others.  A  waxy  whiteness  had 
taken  possession  of  the  approaches  to  the  Old  Man's 
mouth.  He  stared  vaguely,  as  if  looking  through  a 
mist. 

Two  minutes  later,  all  there  was  of  the  veteran 
on  the  sofa  was  a  limp  figure,  white  as  snow,  with 
head  bound  in  wet  towels,  and  an  attendant  with  a 
slop  dish.  A  little  later,  and  the  Old  Man  lay  white 
and  still,  with  fixed  eyes,  and  a  scarcely  perceptible 
breathing.  It  was  hours  before  the  Old  Man  left 


68 


Walks  About  Chicvgo. 


his  bed,  and  when  he  did,  he  moved  about  as  do  all 
very  old  men  who  find  the  weight  of  years  a  bur- 
den. 

The  Old  Man  has  not  yet  traded  his  ball,  buttons 
and  kite-string  for  a  meerschaum. 


WALKS  ABOUT  CHICAGO-1881 


60 


A  WALK  WITH  A  STRANGER. 

T  was  one  of  those  charming  days  of  sum- 
mer which  prevails  in  the  metropolis  of 
Great  Britain.  The  smoke  from  a  million 
chimneys  came  out  upon  the  air,  and,  then, 
j  s  intoxicated  with  the  balmy  environment,  sank 
languidly  into  the  arms  of  the  white  fog  that  had 
risen  during  the  night  like  a  white-robed  .Venus 
from  the  sea. 

There  was  falling  a  gentle  rain.  It  was  an 
English  summer  rain;  fierce  in  its  rush,  cold  as  an 
iceberg,  persevering  and  penetrating.  It  rained 
down  on  an  umbrella  and  up  into  it;  it  was  in  the 
faces  of  the  pedestrians  whichever  way  they  moved; 
it  rained  from, the  interior  of  the  busses  outward; 
and  left  no  opening  unsearched. 

There  came  from  out  the  rain  into  my  office  the 
dripping  figure  of  a  man.  He  was  tall,  thin,  some- 
what stoop-shouldered,  and  dripping  from  his 
ragged  attire  as  if  he  had  just  been  hoisted  from  a 
horse-pond.  His  hat  was  slouch  in  style,  venerable 
as  to  age,  worn,  much  battered,  and  running  off 
water  like  a  roof.  His  hair  was  long  and  grizzled; 
he  had  a  heavy  moustache  of  the  same  hue,  a  goat- 
beard  of  great  length;  and  on  his  cheeks  a  stubly 
growth  of  hair,  so  stiff  that  it  looked  as  if  he  had 
piled  his  face  preparatory  to  some  building  opera- 
tions. 


72  Walks  About  Chicago. 

"  You  are  from,  the  States?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  have  the  honor  to  hail  from  that  locality. 
How  much  do  you  want?  " 

I  recognized  him  at  once  as  one  of  the  several 
thousand  Americans  in  London  who  are  adrift  in 
the  world;  and  who  are  always  in  search  of  funds 
to  return  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  setting  sun. 

"Whatever  you  please.  I  have  been  stopping 
down  at  the  country  place  of  the  Duke  of  Cork,  and 
I  came  up  here  expecting  to  find  a  remittance  at  my 
bankers,  but  it  was  not  there.  Something's  gone 
wrong,  sure.  My  agent  advised  me  that  he  had  just 
concluded  a  sale  at  $2,000  a  front  foot  for  500  lots  in 
Chicago." 

"  Oh,  you  are  from  Chicago,  then?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I'm  from  Chicago.  Do  you  know  Chi- 
cago." 

I  answered  cautiously  that  I  was  a  little  acquaint- 
ed with  that  city,  having  once  been  through  it  some 
years  ago.  Every  one  of  these  American  wanderers 
has  a  local  habitation, which  is  usually  one  unknown 
in  detail  to  the  person  of  whom  he  solicits  assist- 
ance. Thus  I  cunningly  veiled  my  knowledge  of 
the  Garden  City.  It  was  not  a  busy  moment  with 
me  just  then.  Bismarck  was  quiet.  There  were  no 
war-clouds  on  the  horizon  of  the  czar.  Dillon  was 
in  jail,  and  Parnell,  for  the  instant,  was  not  shak- 
ing his  shillelah  under  the  nose  of  the  British  lion. 
Having  a  little  leisure,  I  determined  to  spend  it  in 
unmasking  this  pretender. 

"  So  you  are  from  Chicago?  "  I  continued.  "  Do 
you  know  the  place  pretty  well?  " 

"  Know  her!  Mebbe  I  don't  know  Chicago!  Why 
I  know  that  ere  town  as  well  as  if  I  had  been  her 
father!" 


A  Walk  with  a  Stranger.  ?3 

"  How  long  since  you  were  there?" 

"It's  a  matter  of  a  dozen  years  or  so  since  I  left. 
I  was  in  command  of  a  gunboat  along  with  Farra- 
gut  and " 

"  Yes  I  know.  All  Americans  like  yourself  who 
are  hard  up,  left  the  States  in  command  of  a  gun- 
boat or  something  of  the  sort ;  but  that  doesn't  mat- 
ter just  now." 

"  It's  a  fact  stranger." 

"  All  right ;  I  know  it's  a  fact.  But  that  is  of  no 
account.  Sit  down  over  that  tin  boiler  so  you  can 
drip  off  without  creating  a  flood  on  the  floor.  Now 
tell  me  something  about  that  wonderful  city?" 

"  I  lived  a  leetle  out  of  town  on  the  perrary,  near 
a  tavern  called  the  '  Bull's  Head.'  You  know  where 
that  is,  don't  you?" 

"Can't  say  that  I  do." 

"Don't  know  the  'Bull's  Head'  tavern!  Why 
that's  one  of  the  fust  taverns  in  Chicago  !" 

"  Never  heard  of  it.  I  know  the  Palmer  House 
and  the  Grand  Pacific." 

"  The  which?" 

I  repeated  the  names  of  these  establishments. 

"  You've  got  me  there,  stranger  !  I  never  heard 
of  them." 

"  Are  you  sure  you  have  ever  been  in  Chicago?" 

"  'Sure?'  You  becheryour  life .!  I  was  born  there, 
and  I  know  every  inch  of  her  !" 

"  All  right,  then.  Tell  me  something  more  of  the 
town." 

"  I  know  the  city  like  a  knife.  And  besides  that, 
everybody  there  knows  me.  I  was  ticket  collector 
for  Wood's  Museum.  You  know  Wood's  Museum, 
don't  you?" 

"Can't  say  that  I  do." 


74  Walks  About  Chicago. 

"Don't  know  Wood's  Museum  !"  he  said  in  a  tone 
of  indignant  astonishment. 

"No  sir,  I  don't  positively." 

"Of  course  you  don't  know  Crosby's  Opera 
house  !" 

"  No  sir." 

"  Nor  the  court-house  with  the  jail  under  it !" 

"No  sir." 

"  Nor  Arlington's  ministrels  !" 

"  No  sir." 

"  Nor  Jim  Robinson's  circus  !" 

"No  sir." 

"  Nor  the  two  big  skating  rinks  !" 

"  No  sir." 

"  Nor  the  velocipede  schools  !" 

"  No  sir." 

"  Nor  the  big  church  opposite  the  court-house  !" 

"  Not  much  !" 

And  thus  he  'continued  for  half  an  hour  naming 
places  and  men  without  limit.  He  was  unmistakably 
a  fraud  of  the  first  water.  I  let  him  run  on  as  he 
spoke  of  a  millionaire  named  Honore  who  owned 
thousands  of  acres  close  to  the  city  limits,  of  some- 
body named  Walker  who  was  wealthier  even  than 
Honore  ;  of  vast  lines  of  horse-car  stables  that  stood 
opposite  the  supposititious  '  Bull's  Head'  tavern ; 
and  of  a  thousand  other  things,  equally  astonishing 
and  apochryphal.  I  was  amused  with  his  audacity, 
his  invention,  his  evident  belief  that  I  was  a  ninny 
who  could  be  taken  in  by  his  professions  in  regard 
to  a  city  of  which  he  evidently  knew  not  even  a 
brick  or  the  color  of  its  mud. 

"  One  thing  you  must  know,"  he  said  at  length, 
"  and  that  is  the  beautiful,  smooth,  noiseless  wooden 


A  Walk  with  a  Stranger.  75 

pavements  which  have  been  laid  down  in  the  city, 
and  which  are  the  very  best  thing " 

This  was  too  much.  This  brazen  lie  was  more 
than  I  could  stand.  I  arose,  opened  the  door,  and 
said: 

"There!  that  will  do!  Now  you  get  out!  You 
are  the  biggest  liar  I  ever  met  in  all  my  travels. 
Get  right  out;  if  you  open  your  mouth  ever  so  little 
I  will  hand  you  over  to  that  policeman.  Git!" 

He  gazed  at  me  with  a  furious  look  in  his  glaring 
eyes;  but  the  sight  of  the  policeman  was  too  much 
for  him,  and  he  departed  without  a  word. 

I  relate  this  incident  for  the  benefit  of  those  of 
my  countrymen  who  may  be  abroad,  and  who  may 
— as  they  will  almost  certainly — be  exposed  to  the 
solicitations  of  pertinacious  mendicants  claiming  to 
be  Americans  in  need.  It  is  not  often  that  the 
American  visitor  is  in  a  situation,  as  I  was,  to  ex- 
pose the  character  of  these  people.  Being  a  resi- 
dent of  Chicago,  and  knowing  the  city  as  thoroughly 
as  the  farm  on  which  I  first  saw  the  light,  I  was 
able  to  convict  this  pretended  resident  of  Chicago 
of  being  a  fraud  without  the  smallest  difficulty. 

But  my  position  was  a'peculiar  one,  for  the  reason 
that  these  beggars,  in  approaching  an  American 
visitor,  as  a  rule,  take  the  pains  to  post  themselves 
in  advance  as  to  the  residence  of  those  whom  they 
propose  to  victimize,  so  that  they  are  prepared  to 
locate  their  pretended  residence  in  some  other  lo- 
cality.* 

We  used  to  have  great  old  times  in  this  London 
office.  Occasionally  an  Englishman  would  drop  in 

*For  the  benefit  of  those  not  familiar  with  Chicago,  or  its  early  history,  it 
may  be  stated  that  all  the  places,  persons  and  things  mentioned  by_the  caller 
were  noted  in  the.Chicago  of  a  dozen  or  fifteen  years  ago. 


76  Walks  About  Chicago. 

to  get  some  information  on  American  affairs;  and 
if  there  were  any  of  the  Chicago  gang  around  he 
was  sure  to  get  all  the  information  he  could  carry 
away — and  generally  a  good  deal  more. 

One  day  there  happened  to  call  in  a  staid  old  chap 
who  was  in  business  in  the  city,  and  who  had  never 
been  out  of  London,  or  at  least  had  never  been  so 
far  away  but  that  he  could  get  home  to  sleep  the 
same  night.  There  was  also  in  the  office  at  the  same 
moment  a  young  and  robust  liar  connected  with  the 
Board  of  Trade,  in  Chicago,  and  who  had  run  in  to 
see  a  Chicago  paper,  and  get  the  latest  news  in  re- 
gard to  the  latest  "  corner." 

Two  women  called  in  one  day  and  asked  me  if  I 
could  tell  them  the  whereabouts  of  the  husband  of 
one  of  them  who  had  eloped  to  America  with  some 
other  woman.  He  had  changed  his  name,  but  to 
what  she  did  not  know.  She  expected  that  I  would 
be  able  to  recognize  him  from  the  description  she 
gave  of  his  personal  appearance. 

"Would  you  kindly  tell  me,"  said  the  English 
caller,  "  if  you  ever  knew  in  the  States  a  man 
named  Johnson?" 

"  What  sort  of  a  looking  man  was  he?"  broke  in 
Young  Chicago. 

"  I  cawn't  say  'ow  he  would  look  at  the  present 
time.  I  'aven't  seen  'im  for  twenty  years.  He  was 
my  brother,  and  he  went  away  to  the  States,  and 
we  'aven't  'eard  from  'im  since." 

"  Seems  to  me  I  knew  a  man  named  Johnson  in 
Chicago,"  said  Young  Chicago,  in  a  rp*  sing  sort  of 
a  way.  "  Was  he  an  Englishman?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  ether,  in  an  interested  tone. 

"What  was  his  first  name?" 

"  Tummas." 


A  Walk  with  a    Stranger.  77 

"  Tummas?  Tummas?  I'm  not  exactly  sure,  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  Johnson  I  knew  had  that 
sort  of  a  handle  to  his  name." 

"I  beg  pardon!" 

"  I  say  that  I  think  that  the  first  name  of  the 
Johnson  I  knew  is  Tummas.  Do  you  think  he  had 
a  strawberry  mark  on  his  right  arm  ?" 

"  I  beg  pardon!" 

"  I  mean  did  he  have  any  mark  that  you  would 
know  him  by?" 

"  I  fancy  not." 

And  thus  the  conversation  went  on  for  a  time, 
until  finally  the  Englishman  said: 

Do  you  live  in  Chicago?"  pronouncing  the  "a"  in 
the  name  of  the  place  so  as  to  correspond  with  the 
sound  of  "a"  in  at. 

"  Yes,  sir;  you  bet  your  boots!" 

"I  beg  pardon!" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  live  in  Chicago  every  time — that  is  to 
say,  I  live  in  that  wonderful  city." 

"And  where  is  Chicago?    Is  it  near  New  York?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  near  New  York;  that  is  to  say,  too 
near  for  the  comfort  of  New  York." 

"  I  beg  pardon!" 

"  What  I  mean  is,  that  Chicago,  although  a  thou- 
sand miles  from  New  York,  is  still  so  near  that  city 
that  the  trade  of  New  York  is  gradually  dropping 
off,  its  streets  are  becoming  pasturage  for  stray 
cows  and  pigs,  and  the  most  of  its  once  happy  resi- 
dents have  become  paupers.  Why,  they  take  up  a 
collection  every  Sabbath  in  the  churches  of  our  city 
for  the  poor  of  New  York,  those  who  have  been 
made  paupers  owing  to  the  rivalry  of  Chicago." 

"  Now,  really!" 


78  Walks  About  Chicago. 

"  Fact,  sir.     Oh,  Chicago  is  a  buster,  I  tell  you  ! " 

"I  beg  pardon!" 

"  Chicago  is  the  greatest  city  in  this  world,  or  any 
other  one;  that  is  what  I'm  trying  to  tell  you.  Why, 
did  you  never  hear  of  Chicago?  " 

"  Well,  now  really,  I  cawn't  say  that  I  'ave.  And 
'ow  large  is  it?" 

"How  large?  That's  something  nobody  knows. 
It  grows  so  fast  that  they  can't  take  any  census. 
Four  years  ago  they  commenced  to  take  the  census. 
They  appointed  four  thousand  men  who  had  orders 
to  commence  at  the  centre  of  the  city  and  work  out- 
wards towards  the  suburbs  in  every  direction.  They 
all  went  to  work,  but  the  city  has  grown  so  fast 
that  they  have  never  been  able  to  catch  up  with  the 
outskirts." 

"  God  bless  me  !    How  extraordinary  ! " 

"Yes,  sir!  Most  of  them  are  now  so  far  from 
home  that  they  send  in  their  returns  by  mail;  sev- 
eral have  died,  and  not  one  of  them  has  seen  his 
family  for  over  two  years.  And  then  the  rate  at 
which  new  buildings  grow  up  is  something  astonish- 
ing !  You  have  heard  of  the  great  fire,  haven't 
you?" 

"  The  great  fire  in  London,  do  you  mean?  " 

"No;  the  great  fire  in  Chicago." 

"Really,  I  cawn't  say  I  'ave." 

"Well,  sir,  there  was  a  fire  there  a  few  years  ago, 
and  in  one  night  it  burned  up  every  blessed  building 
in  the  city,  and  the  wind  blew  all  the  ashes  away, 
so  that  when  you  looked  over  the  ground  the  next 
morning,  you  couldn't  see  anything  but  holes  in  the 
ground  where  there  had  once  been  cellars.  A  good 
many  took  these  holes  and  inverted  them,  and  used 


A  Walk  with  a  Stranger.  79 

them  for  shops  for  business  till  they  could  get  lum- 
ber to  build  something  else." 

"Dear  me!  Really?  And  how  did  the  people 
live?" 

"Well,  sir,  that  is  something  quite  providential. 
There  is  a  big  lake  close  to  the  city,  and  the  fire  was 
so  tremendous  hot  that  it  converted  the  lake  into 
boiling  water,  which  cooked  all  the  fish,  so  that  for 
the  next  two  months  the  people  subsisted  on  boiled 
trout  and  catfish." 

' '  Really  ?    How  very  extraordinary ! " 

"  You  can  bet  your  pile  on  that ! " 

"I  beg  pardon!" 

"  I  mean  that  such  is  the  fact.  Well,  sir,  it  was  a 
sight  to  see  that  city  built  up!  There  wasn't  room 
for  all  that  wanted  to  build  at  the  same  time,  so 
that  a  good  many  built  their  basements,  excavations 
and  all,  out  of  town,  on  the  prairie,  and  then  moved 
them  into  their  places  in  town  on  rollers." 

"Ow!    Really?" 

"Yes!  Everything  was  favorable  to  building 
operations  that  winter.  The  water  in  the  lake  kept 
at  the  boiling  point  for  two  or  three  months,  and  the 
masons  used  the  hot  water  to  mix  the  mortar  with. 
People,  utilized  everything.  Before  the  fire  the 
number  of  rats  in  Chicago  was  simply  incredible, 
and  they  had  holes  which  ran  under  and  through 
the  streets  in  every  possible  direction.  The  thor- 
oughfares of  the  city  were  so  crowded  that  it  was 
impossible  to  haul  water  for  building  operations. 
Now,  what  do  you  think  was  done?  They  just  drew 
out  these  rat-holes,  screwed  them  together,  and  used 
them  as  pipes  for  bringing  water  from  the  lake  to 
the  various  points  where  it  was  needed." 


80  Walks  About  Chicago. 

The  Englishman  endeavored  to  say  something, 
but  the  words  froze  in  his  throat. 

"  In  a  couple  of  months,"  continued  the  board-of- 
trade  man,  "  all  the  burned  city  was  rebuilt.  You 
never  saw  anything  like  it,  nor  any  other  man. 
Everything  was  of  the  finest  marble,  with  mansard 
roofs,  iron  dogs  on  the  front  steps,  and  Steinway 
grands  in  the  parlors.  All  this  was  done  before  the 
people  had  got  the  smell  of  the  fire  out  of  their 
clothes." 

The  Englishman  still  said  nothing,  but  sat  with 
bulging  eyes  and  stared  at  the  speaker. 

"  A  curious  thing  about  Chicago,"  said  the  veraci- 
ous narrator,  "  is  the  way  in  which  we  have  raised 
the  grade  of  the  city.  When  the  aborigenes,  some 
fifteen  years  ago,  occupied  the  site  of  Chicago,  it 
was  considerably  below  the  level  of  the  lake.  This 
sort  of  thing  wouldn't  do  you  know,  because  we 
must  have  drainage.  Well,  sir,  they  didn't  have 
the  least  bit  of  trouble.  They  saw  that  the  wagons 
from  the  country  were  constantly  bringing  in  mud, 
and  thus  slowly  raising  the  height  of  thetstreets. 
They  have  depended  on  that  ever  since.  The  streets 
are  never  cleaned;  and  the  consequence  is  that  all 
the  time  the  site  of  the  city  has  been  growing 
higher,  and  the  surrounding  country  lower,  until 
now,  when  it  is  the  fact  that  Chicago  stands  on  a 
hill  some  sixty  feet  above  the  lake.  We  now  have 
a  natural  drainage  in  every  direction,  so  that  city  is 
one  of  the  best-drained,  and  the  very  cleanest  city 
in  the  world." 

"  The  listener  was  still  stolid  and  silent  with  his 
eyes  glued  on  the  other. 

"It's  a  great  city,  you  can  bet  your  boots!  Why, 
I've  gone  down  town  by  a  vacant  lot,  on  some 


A  Walk  with  a  Stranger.  81 

street,  in  the  morning,  and.  when  I  went  back  at 
night  by  the  same  route,  there  would  be  a  marble- 
front  on  the  lot,  and  there  would  be  lights  in  the 
parlor,  and  people  dancing  to  music  as  if  they  had 
lived  there  half  a  century.  We've  got  a  fire  depart- 
ment which  is  so  perfect  that  by  means  of  electri- 
city, an  engine  always  gets  notice  of  a  fire  some  ten 
minutes  before  it  breaks  out,  and  is  thus  able  to  get 
on  the  ground,  hitch  to  a  plug,  and  have  a  couple  of 
axmen  on  the  roof  by  the  time  the  thing  com- 
mences! They  have  an  ingenious  way  of  keeping 
a  member  of  the  fire  department  clean.  There  is  a 
pole  down  which  they  slide  when  they  are  called 
from  their  beds  for  a  fire.  This  pole  is  lubricated 
with  the  very  finest  French  toilette  soap,  which 
is  taken  off  on  the  hands  and  faces  of  the  men  as 
they  descend.  When  they  get  to  the  fire,  they  are 
washed  off  by  the  hose,  and  in  this  way,  they  are 
receiving  constant  and  thorough  ablutions.  Over 
there,  the  hotels  are  so  large  that  guests  who  live 
in  one  wing  when  they  are  in  a  hurry  to  communi- 
cate with  some  one  in  another  wing,  always  gain 
time  by  sending  their  matter  through  the  mails.  In 
every  house,  there  is  a  small  electrical  apparatus 
which  communicates  with  everywhere.  By  touch- 
ing the  different  buttons,  you  can  order  a  horse  and 
buggy  from  the  stable,  a  mustard  plaster  from  the 
druggist,  a-  prescription  from  the  doctor,  a  clean 
shave,  a  bath  and  a  shampoo  from  the  barber." 

Here  there  was  a  deep  groan  from  the  English- 
man, and  then  he  fell  heavily  to  the  floor.  The 
board-of -trade  man  loosened  his  necktie,  and  then 
went  off  to  hunt  up  the  coroner. 

I  have  not  seen  him  since;  and  thus  was  obliged 
to  bury  the  Englishman  at  my  own  expense, 


82  Walks  About  Chicago. 

It  is  just  twenty-five  years  hence  ;  that  is  to  say, 
it  is  the  year  1906.  There  have  been  some  changes 
in  the  map  of  the  world  since  the  date  when  Gar- 
field  was  assassinated,  and  Ireland  was  in  the  throes 
of  land  revolution. 

Since  that  time,  the  land  question  has  been  settled 
in  Ireland  by  the  removal  en  masse  to  the  United 
States,  and  the  location  of  the  greater  portion  of  the 
inhabitants  in  the  city  of  Chicago.  Germany,  too, 
has  undergone  a  change.  The  Brandenburg  dynasty 
is  still  on  the  throne  ;  and  the  grandson  of  Bismarck 
has  just  been  appointed  to  a  high  position  in  the 
diplomatic  service  after  having  run  off  with  the 
wife  of  the  secretary  of  the  interior.  But  Germany 
is  but  sparsely  settled,  the  majority  of  its  people 
having  emigrated  to  the  United  States,  and  settled 
in  Chicago. 

Chicago  has  sustained  many  very  important 
changes.  It  is,  as  it  was  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago, 
divided  into  three  main  parts ;  or  rather  into  two 
parts  and  a  fraction.  One  of  the  main  parts  is  oc- 
cupied by  the  Irish  element,  the  other  by  the  Ger- 
mans, while  in  the  fractional  portion  are  to  be  found 
a  few  of  the  original  American  contingent.  The 
Germans  occupy  all  the  North  side  out  to,  and  be- 
yond what  was  formerly  known  as  Evanston.  They 
have  also  extended  west  and  south  till  they  now  fill  up 
the  region  north  of  what  was  once  known  as  Madison 
street.  South  of  what  was  known  as  Madison  street 
lies  the  Irish  section.  The  former  residents  of  the 
"Green  Isle"  and  their  descendants  occupy  all  the 
country  to  the  west  and  south.  The  native  elements 
hold  the  narrow  strip  between  the  lake  and  the  South 
branch — such  was  its  ancient  name — and  after  leav- 
ing the  river  at  about  what  used  to  be  Twenty-sec- 


A  Walk  with  a  Stranger.  83 

ond  street,  the  west  line  dividing  the  Irish  and  the 
Americans  is  along  the  old  ground  once  occupied  by 
the  Chicago  and  Rock  Island  railway. 

That  portion  of  the  city  occupied  by  the  Germans 
is  now  known  as  Teutonia  ;  that  which  is  held  by 
the  Irish  is  called  Hibernia  ;  and  that  small  section 
pertaining  to  the  American  residents  is  designated 
as  the  "First  Ward." 

What  was  Madison  street  has  been  widened  into 
a  boulevard  of  great  width,  and,  as  said,  forms  the 
dividing  line  between  Teutonia  and  Hibernia.  On 
either  side  of  this  boulevard  for  a  distance  of  one 
thousand  feet  there  are  no  houses.  The  vacant 
space  on  the  north  side  is  planted,  in  season,  with 
cabbages;  that  on  the  south  side  with  potatoes.  In 
the  centre  of  this  boulevard,  and  running  its  entire 
length,  is  a  wall  of  solid  masonry  sixty  feet  in 
height  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  excursions 
from  one  side,  or  country,  into  the  other. 

The  form  of  the  municipal  government  is  now  es- 
sentially changed.  It  provides  that  there  shall  be 
always  two  mayors  and  the  one  twenty-fifth  of  a 
third  one  ;  and  that  one  of  the  whole  mayors  shall  be 
from  Teutonia,  and  the  other  whole  one  from  Hiber- 
nia ;  and  the  fractional  one  from  First  Ward.  The 
character  of  the  common  council  is  also  very  materi- 
ally altered.  There  are  two  bodies  and  a  fractional 
one  corresponding  to  the  mayoral  formation  and 
who  legislate  for  the  entire  city. 

A  provision  in  the  new  Constitution  parcels  out 
all  the  municipal  offices  between  Hibernia  and  Teu- 
tonia, it  being  arranged  so  that  each  side  shall  have 
two-thirds  of  all  the  offices.  To  meet  the  demands 
of  a  situation  in  which  there  are  four  thirds,  the 
bodies  are  allowed  to  create  new  offices  ad  libitum. 


84  Walks  About  Chicago. 

It  has  also  been  decided  that  there  shall  be  an 
equitable  division  of  the  work  of  serving  the  coun- 
try. Under  this  system,  a  citizen  who  gives  his 
time  to  his  country  as  an  official,  is  exempted  from 
the  payment  of  all  taxes.  As  a  result,  First  Ward, 
having  no  officials,  has  to  pay  for  the  support  of  the 
municipal  government.  For  the  purposes  of  gov- 
ernment, the  city  is  divided  into  two  parts,  to-wit, 
official  and  taxable.  Hibernia  and  Teutonia  consti- 
tute the  former,  First  Ward  the  latter. 

The  old  form  of  public  schools  has  been  aban- 
doned, except  in  First  Ward.  In  Teutonia,  there 
are  only  gymnasiums  and  Kindergarten  schools.  In 
Hibernia  there  are  only  parochial  establishments  for 
the  education  of  children,  and  grand  colleges  under 
religious  supervision,  and  which  are  supported  by 
public  taxation — in  First  Ward.  There  are  twelve 
hundred  cathedrals  in  Hibernia,  and  not  a  single 
church  of  any  kind  in  Teutonia. 

All  the  Jews  have  been  run  out  of  Teutonia,  and 
all  the  landlords  out  of  Hibernia. 

Every  occupant  of  a  house  in  Hibernia  has  it  not 
only  rent  free,  but  he  receives  a  bonus  for  living  in 
it.  Those  who  own  property  have  formed  a  league 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  a  reduction  in  the  amount 
of  the  bonus  which  they  have  to  pay  the  occupants  of 
their  houses.  They  have  some  representatives  in 
the  legislative  body  who  are  known  as  "  obstruct- 
ives." Many  of  them  are  in  prison,  and  there  is  a 
determination  on  the  part  of  the  government  of  Hi- 
bernia to  put  them  down  at  any  cost. 

The  chief  industry  among  the  Hibernians  is  in  the 
management  of  distilleries;  that  of  the  Teutonians, 
the  manipulation  of  breweries. 


A  Walk  with  a  Stranger  85 

North  of  the  wall  the  German  language  only  is 
taught  in  all  educational  establishments;  south  of 
it,  the  single  language  taught  and  spoken  is  the 
Celtic.  In  First  Ward,  German  and  Celtic  are 
taught  in  the  public  schools — such  being  the  law; 
English  may  be  used,  but  not  in  any  of  the  official 
transaction.  All  public  documents  are  filed  in  du- 
plicate, one  in  German  and  one  in  Celtic.  There 
are  two  newspapers  outside  of  the  First  Ward;  one 
is  The  Green  Banner,  which  is  devoted  to  the  sup- 
port of  the  platform  of  more  offices  for  the  Hiber- 
nians, and  the  other,  The  Yellow  Standard,  which 
supports  the  platform  of  more  offices  for  the  Teu- 
tonians.  There  are  several  newspapers  in  First 
Ward  devoted  to  the  proposition  that  taxation  for 
municipal  purposes  should  not  exceed  one-half  the 
current  earnings  of  each  taxpayer,  and  that  a  mu- 
nicipal debt  should  not  be  in  excess  of  five  hundred 
per  cent  of  the  actual  value  of  all  the  real  and  per- 
sonal property  subject  to  taxation. 

First  Ward  contains  the  main  business  portion  of 
the  city,  and  constitutes,  as  already  said,  the  tax- 
able department  of  the  municipality.  Every  resi- 
dent of  this  part  is  taxed  on  what  business  he  does 
do;  and  rather  more  on  what  he  doesn't  do.  When 
a  street  needs  paving,  or  repaving,  in  Teutonia  or 
Hibernia,  an  estimate  is  made  of  the  cost,  and  then 
the  amount  is  assessed  against  the  street  frontage 
of  First  Ward.  Everything  is  subject  to  taxation 
in  this  portion  of  the  city.  A  building  is  taxed  so 
much  for  its  height,  so  much  for  its  depth  and 
breadth,  so  much  for  the  distance  it  goes  into  the 
ground,  and  so  much  for  the  distance  it  sticks  out. 
There  is  an  extra  assessment  if  a  building  is  above 
a  certain  size,  and  something  extra  if  it  falls  below. 


86  Walks  About  Chicago. 

There  is  a  tax  on  some  dogs,  and  one  on  no  dogs.  A 
man  with  a  large  family  pays  a  certain  amount;  and 
a  man  without  any  family  is  assessed  according  to 
the  size  of  the  family  which  the  assessor  thinks  he 
should  have.  A  man  pays  a  tax  on  his  property; 
then  he  mortgages  it  to  raise  money  to  pay  his 
taxes,  and  then  he  is  assessed  on  the  original  value 
of  his  property,  and  likewise  on  the  amount  of  the 
mortgage. 

Assessments  for  taxation  are  made  by  two  assess- 
ors, one  from  Hibernia,  and  one  from  Teutonia. 
The  highest  assessment  is  the  one  which  is  adopted. 
In  order  to  stimulate  the  assessors,  it.  is  enacted  that 
the  one  who  makes  the  lowest  assessment  gets  no 
pay  for  his  labor,  while  the  one  who  makes  the 
highest  returns  receives  a  bonus  of  ten  per  cent,  on 
the  valuation  which  he  brings  in,  and  which  is 
added  to  the  tax  and  collected  by  the  same  process. 

Every  resident  of  First  Ward,  and  being  tainted 
with  a  descent  from  a  family  which  has  lived  in  the 
United  States  more  than  thirty  years,  is,  together 
with  his  descendants,  forever  debarred  from  hold- 
ing any  office  to  which  there  is  attached  any  profit 
or  emolument.  If  he  have  an  ancestry  of  less  than 
thirty  years'  residence  in  the  country,  and  cannot 
speak  English  well,  and  is  perfect  in  German,  or 
Celtic,  then,  if  he  reside  in  First  Ward,  he  is  al- 
lowed a  rebate  of  one  per  cent,  in  his  assessments 
both  on  taxable  property  and  for  campaign  pur- 
poses. 

It  would  be  of  great  interest  to  go  more  into  de- 
tails as  to  the  Chicago  of  1906,  or  twenty-five  years 
hence.  Enough  has  been  said  to  give  people  an 
idea  of  the  growth  of  our  great  city,  and  to  what  a 


A  Walk  with  a  Strange?.  87 

glorious  future  it  will  reach  within  this  very  limited 
period. 

I  met  an  old  settler  the  other  night,  in  a  beer  sa- 
loon, on  the  West  side.  The  veteran  was  vis  a  vis 
with  a  glass  of  lager.  There  was  an  expression  of 
ennui  in  his  face.  He  seemed  as  he  were  wearied, 
digusted  about  something  ;  and  had  not  quite  made 
up  his  mind  what  to  do  about  it. 

"  Hello,  Brown,  old  boy.  What  is  the  matter 
with  you?  You  look  as  if  you  had  a  fit  of  the  dumps, 
and  didn't  care  if  the  world  does  come  to  an  end  on 
the  fifteenth  proximo." 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  sort  of  a  faded,  lack-lus- 
tre expression  that  was  painful.  I  had  known  him 
for  years  as  one  of  the  very  liveliest  of  the  old  boys 
within  the  city  limits  ;  one  who  was  on  hand  on  all 
occasions  irrespective  of  the  hour  of  the  day  or 
night,  whether  in  midsummer  or  midwinter,  regard- 
less of  whether  the  thermometer  was  ambitiously 
climbing  among  the  hundreds  or  skulking  down  be- 
low the  nothings.  Besides  all  that,  he  is  well 
fixed ;  he  has  a  fine  stone-front  on  the  South  side  ; 
he  had  a  large  and  accomplished  family,  and  is 
reputed  to  have  a  bank  account  of  no  mean  dimen- 
sions. What  could  be  the  matter  with  a  man  hav- 
ing all  these  attachments,  a  good  constitution,  and 
a  head  which  no  amount  of  all-night  business  could 
swell  beyond  its  natural  dimensions  ? 

"Well,  that's  just  what's  the  matter,"  said  the 
old  boy  as  he  languidty  motioned  me  to  take  a  seat 
by  the  table.  "  Here,  you  !  twzei  lager  !  The  fact 
of  it  is  that  I  am  sick.  I'm  going  to  emigrate  !" 

"'Going  to  emigrate?'  What  in  the  name  of 
blazes  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 


&8  Walks  About  Chicago. 

"Just  what  I  say.  I'm  going  to  pull  out  o'  this 
town  just  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Brown,  and  that 
mighty  soon,  too,  I  tell  you  that !" 

"  Well,  now  go  ahead  and  unload.  Something  is 
up  when  you  begin  to  talk  in  that  sort  of  style.  Let 
us  have  it.  What  is  it  ?" 

"Well,  then,  the  fact  is  that  I'm  tired  of  Chicago." 

"What!  you  tired  of  Chicago!  You,  the  man 
that  has  been  here  since  the  Pottowatomies  vacated, 
who  are  one  of  the  foundations  of  the  city,  who  has 
done  more  to  build  it  up  than  half  the  rest  of  the 
people  here,  who  has  got  plenty  of  money  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing  !  What,  you  of  all  the  others?" 

"  Yes  sir,  it's  me-  that's  talking  in  that  strain. 
The  fact  is  Chicago  isn't  any  more  any  place  for 
me." 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  town  has  out- 
grown me  ;  it's  gone  so  fast  that  I  haven't  been  able 
to  keep  up  with  it.  I'm  just  as  much  out  of  place 
here  as  a  lobster  in  boiling  water." 

"  Well,  now  old  horse,  consider  that  this  is  a  hall, 
and  that  you  have  hired  it,  are  behind  the  desk,  and 
that  you  have  the  floor  all  to  yourself.  Let  us  hear 
from  you." 

"  What  I  complain  of,  is  that  it  isn't  the  old  town. 
It  used  to  be  a  place  where  you  could  have  some 
rational  amusement.  Now  what  can  you  do?  Noth- 
ing !  Don't  you  remember  when  we  used  to  get  the 
boys  together  and  start  out  with  a  couple  of  good 
rat  dogs,  and  then  take  the  town  from  midnight  till 
sunrise,  takin'  a  drink  every  time  the  dogs  caught  a 
rat?  Of  course  you  remember." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  I,  "that  you  are  going  a 
little  back  of  my  time." 


A  Walk  with  a  Stranger.  89 

"  O,  bother !  You  were  there  the  same  as  I  was  ! 
Where  can  you  find  any  more  of  that  kind  of  fun? 
There  are  no  rats,  and  no  saloons  open  if  there  were 
any  rats.  They  are  changing  everything.  Where,  for 
instance,  is  the  old  gang  that  used  to  get  together 
under  the  old  Tremont  afore  they  raised  her  out  of 
the  mud,  and  discuss  Chicago,  swapping  lies  and 
corner  lots,  until  broad  day  light,  and  then  every  man 
going  off  home  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars  richer 
— in  real  estate — than  he  was  when  they  came 
together?  No  more  of  that  now.  You  can't  set 
around  with  a  jackknife,  and  a  piece  of  board,  and 
whittle,  and  lie,  and  take  in  a  greeny  from  the  east 
with  a  couple  of  acres  of  unimproved  real  estate. 
No,  sir;  you  can't !  Why  all  our  industries  are 
gone ! " 

"What  industries  do  you  mean?" 

"  Why  all  the  industries  which  we  used  to  follow. 
There  is  no  more  of  them  industries,  and  there  is  no 
money  to  be  made  in  a  legitimate  way.  Why,  I  tell 
you,  it  was  a  mighty  poor  day,  fifteen  or  twenty 
years  ago,  when  a  smart  man  couldn't  make  from 
five  to  fifty  thousand  dollars  a  day  !  There's  many 
a  forenoon  when  I  have  whittled  out  more  money 
than  you  can  shake  a  stick  at,  just  by  swapping  a 
lot  down  town  for  one  the  other  side  of  the  street  a 
little  further  up,  and  when  me  and  the  other  fellow 
made  a  small  fortune  by  the  exchange.  That  was 
a  business  that  ivas  a  business  !  All  the  capital 
needed  was  a  corner  lot  somewhere,  and  a  credit  at 
the  nearest  bar.  Business  !  Why,  with  such  a  cap- 
ital a  man  was  independently  rich.  It  may  not  have 
been  the  case  that  his  actual,  available  assets  were 
so  very  enormous,  providing  he  had  been  sold  out  by 
the  sheriff ;  but  there  were  all  the  possibilities  of  the 


90  Walks  About  Chicago. 

situation,  all  the  benefits  dreamed  of  and  hoped  for, 
and  these  were  always  up  among  the  millions. 
There's  many  a  time  I've  gone  to  bed  on  an  empty 
stomach;  but  I  was  a  millionaire  all  the  same,  or  at 
least  was  to  be  the  next  day. 

"  Now,  what  are  people  doing  for  a  living?  Just 
downright  slavery;  that's  it,  and  nothing  else  !  The 
old  business  is  busted  higher  than  a  kite  !  The  time 
has  come  when  a  corner  lot  excites  no  speculation  or 
curiosity,  except  on  the  part  of  the  tax  assessor. 
You  can't  do  any  more  with  a  corner  lot  now,  than 
you  can  fly  by  gumming  a  goose  quill  under  your 
arm.  Unimproved  real  estate  is  dropped  down  until 
an  acre  of  it  is  hardly  a  good  collateral  for  a  cock- 
tail. To  do  business  in  these  times,  you  have  got  to 
have  something  besides  a  jackknife,  a  strip  of  shin- 
gle, and  sixty  front  feet  of  dirt  on  some  future  bou- 
levard. You  have  got  to  have  a  big  balance  at  some 
of  the  marble-front  banks;  you  have  got  to  have 
your  name  in  one  of  the  books  of  some  of  these  spy- 
ing commercial  agencies,  with  a  lot  of  figgers  and 
letters  after  it;  you  have  got  to  work  sixteen  hours 
a  day  for  a  year  to  get  ten  per  cent,  on  your  money, 
and  then  you  don't  get  it ! " 

"Don't  you  think  Chicago,  with  its  present  won- 
derful business  and  improvements  is  an  advance  on 
the  old  Chicago?" 

"  Indeed  I  don't !  I'm  sick  of  the  present  condi- 
tion of  things.  Where  can  you  go  now,  and  drop 
into  a  cosy  lunch-house,  where  you  can  put  your 
feet  up  on  a  chair,  spit  all  over  the  floor,  and  feel  as 
much  at  home  as  though  you  were  the  proprietor  of 
the  shebang?  What  fun  do  I  have  down  at  that 
fancy  stone  dungeon  where  I  live?  Not  a  bit! 
When  I  was  rich  only  in  prospective  increase  in 


A  Walk  with  a  Stranger.  91 

real  estate,  I  lived  in  a  one  story  cottage,  two  rooms 
deep,  with  the  old  woman — I  beg  her  pardon,  with 
Mrs.  De  Jimson  Brown — and  the  four  brats,  we 
was  happy,  I  can  tell  you!  There  wasn't  one  tooth- 
brush to  the  dozen  of  us;  we  just  saved  napkins  by 
not  having  any,  and  by  wiping  our  mouths  off  on  our 
sleeves;  and  when  we  had  any  slops  we  didn't  have 
to  pile  'em  up  in  a  dry-goods  box  in  the  alley,  but  we 
just  dumped  them  out  back  on  the  prairie.  We 
weren't  troubled  with  sewer-gas>  or  any  such  non- 
sense. The  latch-string  always  hung  outside,  and 
there  was  almost  always  somebody  a  pullin'  at  it, 
too.  you  bet!  The  boys  used  to  drop  in  whenever 
they  had  a  mind  to.  They'd  just  walk  in  without 
knocking,  help  themselves  to  a  chair,  or  turn  over  a 
bucket  if  there  wasn't  a  chair  handy,  and  make 
themselves  at  home.  We'd  light  up  some  pipes,  put 
our  feet  on  the  window-sills,  and  be  comfortable. 
In  them  days  the  old  girl  was  around  with  a  quarter 
section  of  her  hair  flying  one  way,  mebbe  with  an  old 
slipper  on  one  foot  and  a  broken  down  shoe,  or,  as 
like  as  not,  nothing  on  the  other.  She  didn't  mind 
pipes  in  them  days,  indeed  she  didn't!  She'd  sit 
around  with  the  rest  of  us  and  talk  hoss  and  real 
estate  as  glib  as  though  she  was  in  the  business. 
And  every  once  in  a  while  she'd  let  up  for  a  minit 
or  two  to  spank  a  youngun,  or  swab  off  its  nose  with 
the  skirt  of  her  dress,  or  something  of  the  sort,  and 
then  go  right  on  with  the  hoss  talk  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  Now,  you  know  Mrs.  De  Jimpson  Brown 
pretty  near  as  well  as  I  do.  Is  it  your  conscientious 
opinion  that  one  of  them  old  chums,  with  his  breeches 
in  his  boots,  the  yaller  mud  all  over  him  up  to  his 
eyebrows,  and  his  coat  slung  over  his  arm,  could 
walk  into  the  front  room  down  there  on  the  avenue, 


92  Walks  About  Chicago. 

put  his  feet  up  on  the  window-sill,  pull  out  a  black 
pipe,  light  it  by  scratching  a  match  on  the  seat  of  his 
trousers,  and.  then  '  get  away  with  it '  if  Mrs.  De  J. 
B.  was  in  that  neighborhood?" 

Had  I  been  disposed  to  interfere  in  a  family  mat- 
ter, I  might  have  very  conscientiously  responded  in 
the  negative.     But  I  said  nothing,  merely  trying  to 
put  on  a  look  which  might  be  construed  to  mean 
sympathy,  acquiescence,  or  almost  anything  else.   I 
knew  too  much  of  that  awful  matron  to  say  any- 
thing which  might  possibly  at  sometime  be  repeated 
to  her;  hence  I  preserved  a  diplomatic  silence. 
,  "Oh,   but  I  am  just  sick  of  the  whole  business! 
My  gals  have  been  to  Yurroop,  and  since  they've 
come  back,   I'm  too  vulgar  for  anything,  I    am! 
Instead  of  havin'  her  hair  a-flying  over  one  shoulder 
or  the  other,  as  she  used  to,  the  old  woman  now 
wears  it  in  semibreves  over  her  f orred,  and  close 
down  to  her  eyes,  and  then  at  night  she  takes  it  off 
and  lays  it  away  in  a  box.     She  is  whitewashed  like 
a  new  town-pump,  and  washes  her  face  with  a  dry 
rag.     When  I  want  to  pull  a  pipe,  I've  got  to  go  out 
in  the  back  yard.      We  don't  have  any  more  social 
games  of  draw  in  the  front  room,  or  in  any  other 
room,  for  the  matter  of  that.       There's  always  a  lot 
of  thin-legged  galoots  hanging  around  the  house 
evenings,  and  I've  no  more  show  there  than  a  sick 
rat  among  a  half  acre  of  tarriers.     Oh,  I'm  used  up 
with  this  new-fangled  city!     Marble  fronts  every- 
where!   Silk  curtains,  mahogany  furniture,  and  not 
a  single  circus,  where  you  can  go  and  have  some 
fun  with  the  boys!    I  want  some  of  the  old  times. 
I  want  to  go  out  agin  after  midnight  and  hoop  up 
the  rats  for  drinks!     I  want  to  fall  off  a  sidewalk, 
muddy  my  clothes,  and  go  home  a-howlin',  and  have 


A  Walk  with  a  Stranger.  93 

Mrs.  De  Jimpson  Brown  pull  off  my  boots,  and 
put  me  in  my  little  bed!  That's  what  I  want! " 

"And  that's  just  the  sort  of  thing  you  hadn't  bet- 
ter harness  on  to  at  the  present  time."  I  responded 
warningly. 

"Don't  I  know  that?  Don't  I?  Oh,  no!  Mebbe  I 
don't!"' 

And  then  he  went  out,  and  very  soon  I  followed 
both  him  and  his  example. 


ARMY  AND  OTHER   SKETCHES. 


II      4^^ 


A  BOHEMIAN  AMONG  THE  REBELS. 


IfNE  sunny  afternoon  in  September  of  1861,  I 
was  sauntering  by  the  Planters'  Hotel,  in 
St.  Louis,  when  I  suddenly  found  myself 
face  to  face  with  a  short,  broad-shouldered 
officer,   wearing  the  uniform  of  a  brigadier- 
general,  and  moving  forward  at  a  tremendous 
gait. 

"  Hallo,  General!" 
"  Hallo,  W— !" 

"Where  you  falling  back  to  at  this  pace?  This 
beats  the  time  you  made  getting  out  of  Wilson's 
creek." 

"Fremont's  just  ordered  me  up  the  country.  I'll 
be  off  in  five  minutes.  Come  along  with  us.  Train 
leaves  at  3:30.  Just  time  for  a  little  toddy." 

We  went  inside,  had  a  "  little  toddy  "  mixed,  and 
then  the  general  touched  my  glass  and  said: 
"How!" 

And,  at  the  same  time,  I  touched  his  glass  and  re- 
marked: 
"  How!" 

And  then  the  toddy  was  transferred. 
I  went  down  to  Barnum's,  packed  up  a  blanket,  a 
clean  collar,  a  bottle  of  whisky,  a  tooth-brush,  and, 
just  a  moment  before  train  time,  was  deposited  at 
the  depot  of  the  North  Missouri  railroad. 


98  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

General  Sturgis  was  already  there.  Two  Ohio 
regiments  of  infantry  were  embarked  on  freight 
cars. 

Sturgis  introduced  me  to  such  of  the  staff  as  I  did 
not  know.  We  all  took  seats  in  an  aristocratic 
caboose,  and  in  a  little  while  were  whirling  toward 
St.  Charles,  on  the  Missouri  river. 

And  thus  began  a  journey  of  whose  termination 
I  then  had  as  little  knowledge  as  I  now  have  of  the 
state  of  the  weather  on  the  next  anniversary  of  our 
glorious  independence. 

We  stopped  at  Mexico  awhile,  a  week,  maybe. 
Then  we  went  up  to  Macon  City.  We  were  after 
some  bushwhackers  whom  we  didn't  catch.  Price 
was  closing  in  on  Mulligan  at  Lexington,  and 
Sturgis  had  gone  up  from  St.  Louis  to  try  and  keep 
the  bushwhackers  of  north-eastern  Missouri  from 
going  to  Price's  assistance. 

The  gentlemanly  cut-throat  whom  we  were  after 
got  off  one  night,  and  when  the  fact  was  discovered 
he  was  miles  away,  heading  for  Lexington.  As  we 
were  infantry  and  he  was  mounted,  it  was  not 
deemed  advisable  to  chase  him. 

Courier  with  news  to  Fremont. 

Courier  back  in  a  day  or  two  with  orders  to  go  to 
Mulligan's  relief. 

And  then  we  incontinently  started  for  Lexington. 

We  took  the  cars  to  Utica,  on  the  Hannibal  and 
St.  Joe  railroad.  There  we  left  the  road  and  started 
across  the  country  to  Lexington.  The  distance  was 
about  50  miles. 

We  left  at  Utica  Colonel  John  Groesbeck,  with  one- 
half  of  his  regiment  to  guard  our  rear.  With  the 
Other  half  of  his  regiment,  and  the  whole  of  the 


A  Bohemian  Among  the  Rebels.  99 

other  regiment,  we  started  to  relieve  Mulligan,  be- 
sieged by  something  over  20,000  men. 

To  accomplish  all  this,  we  had  1,200  men  who  had 
never  heard  anything  more  warlike  than  a  Chinese 
firecracker.  We  had  of  six  and  twelve  pounders,none; 
or  any  other  kind  of  cannon  We  had  of  light  and 
heavy  cavalry,  dragoons,  and  other  mounted  men, 
none.  Sturgis  had  a  horse,  and  I  had  a  mule.  We 
were  the  only  mounted  men  in  an  expedition  having 
for  its  object  the  penetration  of  an  unknown  and  hos- 
tile country,  and  the  rout  or  capture  of  20,000  rebels. 

But  Fremont  so  ordered,  and  on  we  went. 

We  pushed  on  like  a  drove  of  calves.  The  Buck- 
eyes were  spoiling  for  a  fight  the  first  day.  One  or 
two  of  them  got  a  fight.  They  upset  a  bee-gum  and 
stole  the  honey,  and  got  stung.  Sturgis  halted  the 
column  long  enough  to  cane  a  couple  of  the  bee 
thieves,  to  put.  their  officers  under  arrest,  and  to 

d — n  vigorously  all  thieving  sons  of ,  Dutch  or 

otherwise.  And  then  we  moved  on. 

That  night,  when  all  was  still,  there  came  through 
the  air,  from  the  south,  a  slight  pulsation.  It  was 
like  a  faint  tapping  in  the  distance.  In  the  bustle 
of  starting  in  the  morning,  the  pulsation  was  no 
longer  heard.  An  hour  after  starting  it  was  again 
heard  faintly.  It  grew  from  a  pulsation  into  a  faint 
sound.  Then  it  grew  distinguishable.  It  finally 
resolved  itself  into  the  roar  of  a  gun. 

We  were  35  miles  from  Lexington,  and  yet  the 
sound  of  the  gun  came  across  the  prairie,  at  inter- 
vals of  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  with  startling  clear- 
ness. 

Sturgis  brightened  up.  "  So  long  as  we  hear  that 
gun,"  said  he,  "it's  a  sign  that  Mulligan  holds 
out." 


100  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

Some  of  the  Buckeyes  heard  it,  and  were  not  so 
near  spoiling  for  a  fight  as  011  the  day  previous. 

It  was  on  Tuesday,  September  17th,  that  we  thus 
pushed  on  within  sound  of  the  heavy  gun.  Nothing 
of  particular  import  happened.  Occasionally  a 
butternut,  on  a  lean  horse,  met  us.  He  was  always 
a  Union  man.  Was  always  looking  for  stray  horses. 
The  first  one  or  two  of  these  gentlemen  were  per- 
mitted to  depart.  The  rest  were  invited  to  stay.  To 
secure  their  compliance,  they  were  dismounted  and 
requested  to  fall  into  the  ranks. 

That  night,  no  occurrence  of  note.  The  next 
morning,  we  were  up  and  away  at  dawn.  The  heavy 
detonations  of  the  gun  still  continued  to  time  our 
march  and  our  anticipations.  Soon  after  daylight, 
we  saw  before  us,  across  the  prairie,  a  dense 
line  of  timber.  It  marked,  as  our  involuntary  pris- 
oners told  us,  the  "bottom"  lands  of  the  Missouri 
river. 

On  that  Wednesday  morning  I  had  eaten  only  a 
moderate  breakfast.  I  had  reason  afterward  to  re- 
gret that  I  had  not  eaten  a  heartier  one. 

Just  before  we  reached  the  line  of  timber,  we  saw 
a  man  watching  us  from  the  road  in  advance.  Two 
or  three  men  mounted  on  the  horses  of  our  prisoners, 
quietly  made  a  detour,  headed  the  gentleman  off 
and,  soon  after,  brought  him  back.  He  said  he 
lived  at  a  little  town  named  Richmond,  just  in 
advance  of  us.  He  took  General  Sturgis  aside,  and 
communicated  something  to  him.  Then  the  man  was 
ordered  to  follow  us,  and  we  went  on. 

"See  here,"  said  the  general.  "We  are  in  a 
pocket.  This  man  tells  me  that  from  Richmond 
to  Lexington  it  is  seven  mile,s,  and  all  the  way 
through  the  bottom.  He  says  the  rebels  know  of  our 


A  Bohemian  Among  the  Rebels.  101 

coming,  and  some  5,000  men  are  in  ambush  along 
the  road.  If  we  can  fight  our  way  through  5,000 
men  with  1.200  green  troops,  we  shall  reach  the 
river.  The  rebels  have  all  the  boats,  and  have 
cannon.  We  can't  get  across  if  we  ever  get  to  the 
bank." 

Just  about  then  the  head  of  the  column  entered 
the  timber.  As  it  did  so,  the  tinkle  of  a  cow-bell 
broke  the  stillness  to  our  left,  and  a  little  way  in  the 
wood.  Another  was  almost  instantly  heard  from 
some  point  beyond  it,  and  then  a  third  coming 
faintly  from  the  same  direction.  This  direction  was 
toward  Lexington.  Our  approach  was  evidently 
being  .signaled  to  the  party  in  ambush.  The  hollow 
clamor  of  these  bells  seemed  to  have  in  them  some- 
thing inexpressibly  portentous  of  evil. 

We  soon  reached  Richmond.  A  halt  was  ordered, 
and  the  citizens  shortly  before  captured,  invited 
Sturgis  to  his  house  to  take  some  champagne.  He 
went,  and  so  did  I.  Two  or  three  other  good  fellows 
joined  the  procession.  The  champagne  was  excel- 
lent for  that  section,  and  plenty  of  it.  Very  soon  we 
had  from  one  to  two  quarts  each  snugly  put  away 
under  our  waistbands. 

About  this  time  Sturgis  concluded  he  could  not 
whip  5,000  veterans  with  1,200  green  rolunteers,  and 
cross  a  wide  river  without  boats  whose  passage  was 
disputed  by  cannon.  Thereupon  he  concluded  to 
take  his  little  force,  march  to  the  right,  and  go  up 
to  Kansas  City. 

Meanwhile  I  had  held  some  interesting  converse 
with  our  entertainer,  the  result  whereof  became 
soon  evident.  I  approached  the  general : 

"  General,  I  believe,  if  you  don't  object.  I  will  go 
on  to  Lexington." 


102  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

"On  to  Lexington?    On  to  h — 1,  you  mean!'? 

"  No,  Sir;  not  h — 1,  but  Lexington,  I'm  a  news- 
paper correspondent, — a  non-combatant  you  know. 
I  want  to  see  the  fight." 

"  Well,  old  Price'll  hang  you  for  a  spy  in  twenty 
minutes." 

But  I  would  not  listen  to  the  sage  advice  of  the 
somewhat  offended  cavalryman.  Finally,  telling 
me  to  go  to  the  devil,  if  I  was  determined  to,  he  bade 
me  a  gruff  farewell.  He  marched  up  the  river 
toward  Kansas  City. 

Accompanied  by  my  friend  of  the  champagne 
bottles,  I  pushed  toward  Lexington. 

My  hospitable  friend  had  kindly  exchanged  my 
mule  for  a  horse.  We  were  both  well  mounted,  and 
we  went  down  the  "  bottom  "  road  "  howling." 

Nearly  or  quite  two  quarts  of  champagne  were 
boiling  through  my  brain,  whose  result  was  a  desire 
to  gallop  like  the  wind,  and  to  yell  "like  the  d — 1" 
at  intervals  of  about  ten  seconds. 

We  soon  reached  a  butternut  picket,  at  a  little 
doggery  or  grocery  by  the  roadside.  The  rate  at 
which  we  were  riding,  the  direction  of  our  route, 
and  the  amount  of  yelling  which  we  were  perpe- 
trating would  have  passed  us  through  any  rebel 
picket  from  Bull  Run  to  Fort  Smith. 

With  a  wild  cheer  for  the  Plutonian  regions,  we 
dashed  through  the  picket  and  qn  toward  Lexington. 
Despite  the  excitement  and  the^rate  of  speed,  I  had 
time  to  notice  that  every  tree  and  fallen  log,  along 
the  road,  was  occupied  by  a  butternut,  with  a  shot- 
gun or  a  squirrel-rifle.  Sturgis  would  have  had  as 
much  "  show"  among  these  gentlemen  as  a  rat-ter- 
rier in  a  hornet's  nest. 


A  Bohemian  Among  the  Rebels.  103 

The  rapidity  of  the  ride  cooled  me  somewhat,  and 
when  we  reached  the  river  I  was  in  a  condition  to 
take  observations.  Opposite,  on  high  bluffs,  was 
Lexington.  There  seemed  a  vigorous  Fourth  of 
July  celebration  in  operation.  There  was  a  frequent 
explosion  of  cannon,  and  an  incessant  rattle  of  small 
arms. 

The  ferry-boat,  with  steam  up,  was  waiting  at  the 
bank.  We  went  aboard,  and  soon  after  steamed  to 
the  other  shore. 

The  streets  were  full  of  people.  They  were  almost 
without  exception,  sunburnt,  butternnt  men,  who 
carried  double-barrelled  shot-guns,  or  a  rifle,  and 
had  revolvers,  or  horse-pistols,  and  bowie-knives 
buckled  on  their  waists. 

My  companion  and  myself  pushed  through  the 
crowd  to  the  headquarters  of  Price.  They  were  up 
stairs,  in  a  building  on  the  main  street.  A  single 
sentinel,  armed  with  a  United  States  musket  and  a 
cavalry  sabre,  stood  at  the  street  entrance. 

Bidding  me  wait  his  return,  my  companion,  upon 
mentioning  that  he  wished  to  see  General  Price,  was 
permitted  to  pass  in  without  difficulty.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  returned,  and  we  ascended  the  stairs  in 
company.  Entering  a  door  at  the  left,  I  found  my- 
self in  a  spacious  room,  near  the  street,  ancTin  which 
was  seated  an  elderly  gentleman  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
and  with  gray  vest  and  pantaloons.  About  him 
were  grouped  a  half-dozen  men,  most  of  whom  wore 
sabres  and  revolvers, and  some  sort  of  gray  or  brown 
uniform. 

My  companion  led  me  up  to  the  elderly  gentle- 
man, and  said: 

"  General  Price,  this  is  the  prisoner  I  spoke 
about." 


104  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

The  old  man  looked  at  me  keenly,  and  said: 

"Who  are  you?" 

"Well,  general,  I  am  not,  as  I  suppose,  a  pris- 
oner. I  came  here  of  my  free  will.  1  am  the  cor- 
respondent of  the .  I  have  come  voluntarily  to 

your  camp,  trusting  to  your  well-known  chivalry, 
and  relying  upon  my  character  as  the  member  of  a 
non-combatant  profession." 

•'What  is  your  name?" 

I  gave  it. 

"Your  residence?" 

I  told  him. 

"  You  came  with  General  Sturgis  from  St.  Louis?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  many  men  has  he?" 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  decline  to  answer." 

"Which  way  is  he  going?" 

"You'll  excuse  me,  General,  but  I  can  give  you 
no  information  whatever  as  to  General  Sturgis." 

"Ah!  Now  are  you  sure  that  you  are  not  sent 
here  by  General  Sturgis  to  find  out  my  forces?" 

"I  can  only  assure  you,  sir,  upon  my  honor,  that 
I  have  come  simply  as  a  correspondent,  and  that  I 
have  no  intention  whatever  of  playing  the  spy, 
either  in  your  favor  or  that  of  the  Federals." 

There  was  something  in  the  looks  of  Price  that 
satisfied  me  that  he  did  not  believe  me.  He  was 
about  to  speak  again,  when  one  of  his  staff  inquired: 

"You  say  your  name  is ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Were  you  at  the  battle  of  Wilson's  Creek?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  write  the  account  of  the  battle  which 
was  copied  afterward  in  the  St.  Louis  Republican?" 

"  I  did." 


A  Bohemian  Among  the  Rebels.  105 

The  speaker  turned  to  General  Price. 

"  General/'  said  he,  "  I  will  say  this  much  for  the 
gentleman.  That  account  was  a  particularly  fair 
one,  and  seemed  to  be  written  by  a  man  disposed  to 
do  justice  to  both  sides." 

General  Price  reflected  a  few  moments,  and  then 
whispered  aside  with  some  of  his  officers.  Finally 
he  said: 

"  Major  Savery,  you  will  take  charge  of  this  man, 
and  be  careful  to  treat  him  like  a  gentleman." 

He  bowed  courteously  and  moved  to  another  part 
of  the  room.  Major  Savery,  a  ftian  with  a  huge 
crimson  sash  worn  from  his  shoulder,  a  revolver, 
and  a  cavalry  sabre,  led  me  into  the  street.  I  found 
that  he  was  the  provost  marshal.  He  led  me  across 
the  street,  and  then  up  stairs,  into  a  front  room. 
The  door  was  guarded  by  a  man  with  a  crimson 
sash,  a  revolver,  a  carbine,  a  sabre. 

''There,"  said  the  major,  "you  can  look  out  of 
the  window  and  see  the  fight.  Make  yourself  com- 
fortable. I  must  look  around. 

He  went  out. 

I  went  to  the  window.  The  college,  the  boarding 
house  and  grounds  occupied  by  Mulligan  were  all 
visible.  I  could  see  the  smoke  of  the  batteries,  hear 
the  crack  of  small  arms,  and  see  the  Confederates 
swarming  in  the  ravines  and  the  timber.  I  could 
see  the  hospital  with  its  yellow  flag,  and  could,  in 
fine,  overlook  the  fight  very  much  as  if  it  were  a 
picture. 

Mulligan  had  already  been  cut  oif  from  water  for 
two  days.  I  thought  he  must  be  terribly  thirsty, 
which  reminded  me  of  the  fact  that  I  was  in  the 
same  condition.  It  was  close  upon  night,  and  I  had 
had  nothing  to  eat  since  daylight,  or  to  drink  save 


106  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

feverish  champagne.  I  appealed  to  the  guard  to  get 
me  something.  He  could  not  leave  his  post. 

Darkness  came,  and  with  it  some  members  of  the 
provost  guard.  They  had  heard  my  story  from 
Savery,  and  they  regarded  me  very  favorably. 

I  think  that,  in  those  days,  I  could  swear,  and  talk 
horse  equal  to  the  average.  Therefore,  despite  my 
aristocratic  paper  collar  of  four  days'  age,  I  "took" 
with  these  "boys."  They  surrounded  me.  We  told 
rough  stories,  played  seveii-up,  discussed  the  polit- 
tical  situation,  and  I  was  unanimously  voted  a  "  h — 1 
of  a  fellow,"  as  somebody  worded  it. 

My  popularity  was  at  high  tide,  when  the  doqr 
was  opened,  and  a  lusty  nigger  shot  in  like  a  batter- 
ing ram.  He  was  evidently  moving  under  the  pro- 
pulsive suasion  of  a  powerful  kick.  He  picked  him- 
self up  with  a  howl  of  terror,  looked  wildly  around, 
and  saw  me.  His  black  face  lightened  with  a  gleam 
of  satisfaction,  and  he  said  : 

"  Hullo,  cap'en,  is  you  here  too?" 

I  stared  vacantly  at  the  grinning  face.  To  me  it 
had  no  more  elements  which  I  could  recognize  than 
the  sooty  bottom  of  a  potato-skillet. 

"  Whar  you  from,  boy?"  asked  one  of  the  guards. 

"  I'se  from  de  fort." 

"  Captured?" 

"Yis." 

"Do  you  know  this -man?"  continued  the  ques- 
tioner, pointing  to  me. 

"  Know  him?  Of  course  I  does.  He's  capin  of 
de  ban'." 

My  late  admirers  understood  it.  After  all,  I  was 
one  of  Mulligan's  men,  had  got  out  some  way,  com- 
municated with  Sturgis,  and  was  on  my  way  back. 
My  popularity  was  ruined.  They  began  to  look 


A  Bohemian  Among  the  Rebels.  107 

angrily  at  me.  I  was  a  d — d  Yankee,  as  one  man 
expressed  it.  They  left  me. 

As  for  me,  I  took  a  good  look  at  the  grinning  nig- 
ner,  got  my  right  foot  ready  for  a  kick,  which  I  cal- 
culated should  be  the  most  tremendous  kick  of  mod- 
dern  or  ancient  times  ;  hesitated  a  moment  whether 
I  should  plant  it  on  the  shins,  or  a  broader  part  of 
the  imbecile  African,  and  then — I  walked  away, 
feeling  the  utter  impossibility  of  any  kick  propelled 
by  a  human  leg  being  able  to  do  justice  to  the  sub- 
ject. 

The  night  was  anything  but  pleasant.  It  was  the 
time  of  year  when  the  days,  in  that  latitude,  are 
pleasant,  but  the  nights  nipping  and  uncomfortable. 
While  I  was  en  rapport  with  the  swart  brigands  of 
the  provost-guard,  and  before  the  irrepressible  Afri- 
can had  interrupted  my  understanding  with  my 
rebel  friends,  one  of  them  had  borrowed  my  coat 
wherewith  to  make  himself  a  pillow.  He  had  for- 
gotten to  return  it.  And  thus,  in  my  shirt-sleeves, 
I  shivered  in  the  fireless  room  the  weary  hours  of 
the  interminable  night. 

There  was  a  dirty  quilt  in  one  corner.  Upon  this 
the  African  curled  himself  like  a  nuge  ball  of  ink, 
and  snored  like  a  wheezy  locomotive.  At  intervals 
of  half  an  hour  or  so,  the  windows  of  the  room  rat- 
tled, and  the  air  was  shattered  by  the  heavy  roar  of 
the  rebel  gun — the  same  that  we  heard  in  approach- 
ing the  city. 

I  was  hungry,  frozen  and  discouraged.  I  could 
get  nothing  to  eat.  The  only  drink  attainable  was 
an  atrocious  compound  of  hell-fire  and  stench,  known 
as  peach  brandy.  I  had  tasted  it,  and  it  scorched 
along  its  passage  like  a  rivulet  of  molten  lead. 


108  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

When  the  negro  had  announced  me  as  captain  of 
the  band,  the  guards  seemed  to  think  me  a  desperate 
character.  The  next  man  who  was  put  on  guard 
inside  the  door  was  a  butternut,  who  had  an  im- 
mense sabre,  with  a  steel  scabbard,  a  home-made 
bowie-knife,  a  pair  of  revolvers,  and  a  double-bar- 
reled shot-gun.  He  kept  his  eyes  constantly  upon 
me,  and  his  finger  on  the  trigger  of  his  gun. 

A  little  before  midnight  the  door  opened,  and 
there  entered  a  man  six  feet  four,  mainly  legs, 
bearded,  sun-browned,  with  a  torn,  slouch  hat,  and 
fingers  with  long,  dirty  talons.  He  glared  savagely 
at  me  for  a  moment,  and  then  said: 

" Stranger,  d'ye  want  a  little  draw  poker?" 

I  informed  him  in  the  blandest  of  tones  that  I 
would  be  delighted,  but  I  was  "  strapped,"  and  that 
I  couldn't  play  if  the  bet  was  limited  to  a  single 
shirt-button.  He  went  away  muttering. 

A  little  later  the  door  opened,  and  there  staggered 
in  a  heavy-set  ruffian,  in  an  advanced  state  of  intox- 
ication. He  carried  in  his  right  hand  an  immense 
horse-pistol,  upon  wfrose  nipple  I  caught  the  red 
gleam  of  the  cap.  He  lurched  into  the  room  and 
fixed,  or  tried  to  fix,  his  bloodshot  eyes  upon  my 
figure. 

"Lemme  guard  these  Yankee  sonabishes,"  said 
he,  "  I  want  to  shoot  Yankee  sonabish,  by  G — d." 

He  stood  swaying  upon  his  feet,  and  trying  to 
cover  me  with  his  pistol.  The  guard  made  no  re- 
mark, but  as  the  pistol  was  not  cocked,  I  felt  no  im- 
mediate alarm. 

The  room  had  been  a  barber's  shop,  and  there  re- 
mained a  single  chair,  into  which,  after  vainly  try- 
ing to  get  a  bead  on  me,  he  staggered.  He  almost 
instantly  fell  into  a  drunken  slumber,  during  which 


A  Bohemian  Among  the  Eebels.  109 

he  muttered  in  broken  sentences,  and  gave  utterance 
to  half  articulate  oaths  and  blasphemies. 

He  slept  but  a  few  moments,  and  then  roused  into 
wakef  ulness.  He  stared  wildly  at  the  wall,  then  his 
lowering,  bloody  eyes  slowly  wandered  about  the 
room  till  they  fell  on  me. 

"Yankee  son-of-a-bish — shoot  you,  by  G — d." 

This  time  he  fumbled  with  the  hammer  of  his  pis- 
tol, and  succeeded  in  cocking  it.  Again  he  essayed 
to  cover  me  with  its  muzzle,  which  looked  larger  to 
me  than  the  opening  of  a  barrel.  But  his  nerveless 
hand  could  not  obey  the  demands  of  the  ruffianly 
soul,  and  again  he  gave  up  the  attempt,  and  elapsed 
into  a  partial  insensibility. 

A  half-dozen  times  during  the  night  did  he  awake, 
and  menance  me  with  his  pistol.  He  was  on  the 
verge  of  delirium  tremens.  When  asleep,  his  mut- 
terings,  his  imprecations,  his  savage  blasphemies, 
were  inexpressibly  terrible.  Toward  morning  some 
of  his  comrades  entered,  gave  him  a  tin  dipper  full 
of  brandy,  and  a  moment  later  he  fell  into  a  stupor 
from  which  he  did  not  recover-  till  after  daylight. 

There  were  no  other  interruptions  of  note  during 
the  night,  save  that  occasionally  some  swart  skeleton 
in  butternut  would  open  the  door,  gaze  in  curiously 
for  a  moment  or  two,  and,  after  paying  me  the  inev- 
itable compliment  of  calling  me  a  "  Yankee  son  of  a 
— ,"  would  go  away. 

Daylight  came  after  a  month  or  six  weeks,  or  some 
similarly  approximate  eternal  period.  Soon  after 
reappeared  Major  Savery.  With  him  came  one  of 
his  lieutenants,  Charles  Martin. 

I  related  my  experiences  of  the  night.  Savery  was 
sympathetic.  The  African,  having  slept  over  it, 


110  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

took  another  look  at  me  by  daylight,  and  concluded 
I  was  not  "  Cap'en  of  de  ban'." 

I  cultivated  Martin  assiduously.  I  was  rewarded 
at  noon  by  being  released  on  parole,  and  by  being 
invited  around  by  Martin,  who  was  a  native  of  the 
place,  to  dinner. 

He  had  a  charming  home,  a  beautiful  and  intelli- 
gent wife,  and  was  himself  the  biggest  desperado 
on  the  Missouri  river.  He  was  not  over  five  feet  two 
in  height,  and  yet,  as  I  have  since  learned,  he  killed 
before  the  war,  a  half-dozen  men  in  broils  and  sin- 
gle-handed fights. 

He  took  a  fancy  to  me,  for  some  reason,  and  we 
were  inseperable  during  my  stay  in  the  Confederate 
lines.  He  professed,  and  I  believe  entertained,  a 
liking  for  me,  and  yet  he  tried,  in  a  quiet  way,  to 
kill  me,  on  two  occasions.  I  occupied  a  bed  at  his 
house,  and  he  slept  in  an  adjoining  room.  The  sec- 
ond night  we  came  in  late,  and  both  retired.  I  had 
been  in  bed  a  half  hour  or  so,  when  feeling  feverish, 
I  rose  quietly  and  went  to  the  wash-stand  to  bathe 
my  face.  The  stand  sat  against  the  wall  next  to  his 
room;  and,  in  moving  the  pitcher,  I  made  a  slight 
noise.  Instantly  it  flashed  over  me  that  he  might 
think  I  was  listening  against  the  wall;  and  the  next 
moment,  in  swift  silence,  I  hurried  back  to  the  bed, 
iioislessly  entered,  and  drew  up  the  clothes.  I  had 
but  just  done  so,  when  the  door  of  Martin's  room 
opened  without  sound,  and  I  saw  him  thrust  out  his 
head  and  his  right  arm,  in  the  hand  of  which  was  a 
revolver.  He  turned  quickly  to  the  place  where  I 
had  made  a  noise  a  moment  before,  but  there  was 
nobody  there.  He  glanced  at  the  bed.  I  was  there, 
and  snoring. 


A  Bohemian  Among  the  Rebels.  Ill 

The  next  night  we  fell  to  discussing  the  battle  of 
Wilson's  Creek.  He  said  the  federal  force  was 
20,000..  I  said  that  it  was  less  than  6,000. 

"  Then  I  lie,  do  I?"  he  remarked  in  the  quietest 
way  imaginable.  At  the  same  moment  he  was  stab- 
bing with  the  point  of  his  sabre  into  the  sill  of  a 
window;  but,  as  he  asked  the  question  I  saw  him 
"gather  himself." 

Had  I  said  yes,  the  next  stab  with  his  sabre  would 
have  been  directly  into  my  breast.  Despite  his  non- 
chalance and  calmness  there  were  a  dozen  murders 
in  a  glance  which  I  caught  of  his  eye,  as  he  uncon- 
cernedly asked  me  the  question. 

I  am  not  writing  now  an  account  of  the  defence 
made  by  the  gallant  Mulligan.  I  have  done  this 
before,  and  the  affair  has  become  a  matter  of  history. 
Suffice  it  that  I  remained  till  the  Sunday  after  the 
surrender,  which  took  place  on  Friday.  In  com- 
pany with  Martin,  during  the  progress  of  the  fight, 
I  visited  the  rebel  lines,  and  for  once  was  in  front, 
in  place  of  behind,  federal  bullets. 

I  will  only  add,  in  relation  to  my  further  experi- 
ence, that,  during  my  stay,  I  received  only  the  most 
courteous  treatment,  after  the  first  night  of  my  cap- 
ture. I  was  afforded  every  facility  for  writing  up 
my  accounts,  and  when  I  left,  on  Sunday,  I  was 
bidden  a  cordial  good-bye  by  General  Price,  and 
was  presented  with  a  horse  by  my  courteous  little 
friend,  Charley  Martin.  I  recrossed  to  Utica,  took 
the  cars  to  St.  Louis,  and  was  the  first  to  announce 
to  the  public  the  details  of  the  siege  of  Lexington. 


PAP  FULLER'S  GAME  OF  POKER. 


HEN  the  present  President,  U.  S.  Grant,  of 
the  United  States  was  engaged  in  the  task 
of  trying  to  capture  Vicksburg,  there  was 
^>    a  good  deal  of   spare  time  for  almost  any 
thing.     The  particular  time  of  which  I  speak 
was    in    February  of   1863,   when  the  Federal 
army,  or  armies,  lay  on  the  river  above  and 
opposite  the  Confederate  city. 

General  Grant  did  not,  apparently,  know  what  to 
do,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  army  was  pretty  much  in 
the  same  nonplussed  condition.  Having  nothing  to 
do  except  to  do  nothing,  every  one  resorted  to  some 
means  to  kill  time.  To  capture  the  man  with  the 
hour-glass  was  as  much  a  subject  of  planning  and 
campaigning  as  the  capture  of  the  rebel  city. 

Accordingly,  there  sprang  into  existence  no  end 
of  pastimes.  When  the  weather  permitted,  there 
was  base  ball,  quoits,  and  horse  racing.  Occasion- 
ally somebody  got  drunk  by  way  of  variety. 

I  think  that  a  gentleman,  Frank  Blair,  who  ran 
for  Vice  President  of  the  United  States,  last  fall, 
could  afford  some  statistics  of  high  interest  with 
reference  to  this  class  of  pastimes. 

But  out-door  amusement  was  not  to  be  depended 
on.  When  it  did  not  rain,  which  it  did  nearly  all 
the  time,  it  was  so  muddy  that  land  locomotion  was 
largely  of  the  wading  style  of  progress.  Therefore, 


Pap  Fuller's  Game  of  Poker.  113 

everybody  staid  in  his  tent,  or  on  the  boats,  and  got 
rid  of  time  after  the  most  available  process. 

A  fine  little  amusement,  and  a  favorite  one,  was 
one  known  as  draw-poker — called,  for  short,  among 
its  more  familiar  friends,  "draw."  Everybody 
"  drawed "  who  had  $5  of  his  own  money,  or  who 
could  negotiate  a  loan  to  that  amount  from  an  ac- 
commodating friend.  But  there  were  a  few  capital- 
ists who  hung  about  the  steamboats.  They  were 
chiefly  cotton-buyers,  who  were  excluded  by  Grant's 
rigid  orders  from  going  beyond  the  lines.  They  had 
money  in  plenty,  and  were  always  regarded  as  a 
valuable  accession  to  a  "little  game  of  draw,  just  for 
amusement,  you  know." 

Other  valuable  adjucts  to  the  same  beautiful  little 
game  were  the  higher  officers,  who  always  seemed 
to  have  plenty  of  greenbacks;  quartermasters,  w^hose 
resources,  considering  their  small  salaries,  were 
amazing;  paymasters,  who  were  always  plethoric; 
and  some  Kentuckians,  who  were  down  there  watch- 
ing the  progress  of  events,  and  passionately  fond  of 
whiskey,  "draw,"  and  moderately  non-committal 
on  the  question  of  the  negro. 

On  the  steamer  Thomas  E.  Tutt,  which  lay  four 
or  five  miles  above  Vicksburg,  poker  was  the  fash- 
ionable amusement.  It  was  the  supply-boat  of  Gen. 
Steele's  command,  and  was  often  the  headquarters 
of  the  general  himself.  One  of  his  quartermasters 
was  Captain,  otherwise  and  familiarly  known  as 
"Pap"  Fuller.  "Pap"  was  from  Illinois;  and  if 
the  old  gentleman  loved  anything  in  the  world  it 
was  a  "  nice  little  game  of  draw,  just  to  kill  time." 
When  I  went  to  my  state-room,  at  three  A.  M.,  I  left 
him  indulging  in  draw.  When  I  got  up  next  morn- 
ing I  found  him  in  the  same  business,  and  trying  to 


114  Army  and  Oilier  Sketches. 

"  raise "  somebody  "  out"  "  before  the  draw,"  "  on 
two  little  pair." 

The  captain  had  accompanied  Curtis  in  his  march 
through  Arkansas,  and,  it  was  said,  he  had  played 
draw  the  entire  trip.  In  any  case,  he  reached 
Helena  several  thousands  ahead;  and  this  substantial 
capital  was  being  increased  before  Vicksburg,  until 
there  occurred  the  incident  I  am  about  to  relate. 

One  day  an  arrival  from  Memphis  discharged, 
among  other  things,  a  couple  of  travelers  who 
announced  themselves  as  cotton-dealers.  They  got 
on  board  the  Tutt,  and  very  soon,  by  their  plausible 
manners,  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  regular 
habitues  of  that  dilapidated  old  steamer. 

They  had  plenty  of  money,  and  knew  nothing  of 
any  game  of  cards.  The  former  was  proved  by 
their  depositing,  in  the  safe  of  the  boat,  some  bulky 
packages  of  greenbacks;  and  the  latter  was  estab- 
lished by  their  own  assertions.  Nevertheless,  they 
took  a  decided  interest  in  the  game  of  "  draw." 
They  sat  about  the  tables,  looked  into  the  players' 
hands,  congratulated  the  winners,  and  sympathized 
with  the  losers. 

A  man  who  can  learn  anything  can  learn  poker, 
after  having  seen  it  played  for  a  week  or  two.  No- 
body was  very  much  surprised,  therefore,  to  discover, 
after  a  fortnight,  that  both  of  the  new-comers  had 
become  participants  in  the  game. 

Both  were  cautious  awkward,  and  small  players. 
A  "  five-cent"  game  was  most  to  their  liking,  and 
anyone  could  "run  them  off"  with  a  two-dollar  bet. 
But  they  improved  slowly,  although  they  lost  con- 
stantly. Gradually  they  progressed  from  a  five-cent 
game  up  to  the  regular  game  of  a  dollar  ''blind." 


Pap  Fuller's  Game  of  Poker.  115 

Both  seemed  to  like  to  play  at  the  same  table  with 
Pap  Fuller.  They  lost  their  money  with  a  good 
grace,  and  just  the  proper  amount  of  chagrin  over 
their  bad  luck  and  their  lack  of  knowledge  of  so 
beautiful  a  game. 

Quite  unexpectedly,  one  night,  their  luck  began 
to  change.  They  had  astounding  luck.  They  won, 
between  them,  something  like  $250.  It  was  very 
singular,  as  Pap  Fuller  observed.  He  was  the  prin- 
cipal loser. 

"  It's  d — d  singular,"  remarked  that  usually  lucky 
veteran.  "  I-  never  held  such  hands  in  rny  life  ! 
Curse  me  if  they  didn't  scoop  me  every  time  !" 

The  next  night  it  was  the  same,  only  more  so. 
The  two  greenhorns  were  fearfully  lucky.  The 
game  broke  up  at  breakfast.  Pap  Fuller  was  some 
$300  out. 

I  found  the  old  gentleman,  a  couple  of  hours  later, 
sitting  dejectedly  in  his  state-room.  A  tumbler  of 
whisky  cheered  his  solitude. 

"  See  here,"  said  the  captain,  with  a  most  lugubri- 
ous shake  of  the  head,  "  I'm  cussed  if  I  see  into  this 
'ere  little  arrangement.  Nobody  ever  beat  old  Pap 
Fuller  in  that  style  afore,  especially  two  green  uns 
never  done  it.  The  old  man  is  playin'  out,  I 
reckon."  And  he  concluded  his  oration  with  a  pro- 
found sigh. 

All  that  day  Pap  was  invisible,  save  to  one  or  two. 
I  called  at  his  state-room  once  or  twice.  He  occu- 
pied precisely  the  same  position.  He  muttered  to 
himself  constantly.  "Every  time  I  had  'threes' 
one  on  'em  or  the  tother  had  a  '  flush.'  Ef  I  had  two 
little  pair,  one  or  tother  of  'em  was  sure  to  lay  over 
me — especially  one  or  tother  on  'em  had  the  deal ! 


116  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

Green  are  they?  Well,  now,  p'r'aps,  and  then  again, 
p'r'aps  not.  Pap,  you're  a  cussed  old  idiot." 

In  this  sort  of  way  the  captain  delivered  himself, 
talking  sometimes  to  me  and  sometimes  to  himself. 

And  so  the  day  wore  away.  Night  came,  and 
with  it,  poker.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  did  Pap 
emerge  from  his  den. 

I  looked  curiously  at  the  old  man.  He  seemed 
somewhat  subdued  and  humiliated.  He  took  his 
seat  at  the  table.  The  two  strangers  were  already 
in  place. 

The  game  began,  and  the  captain  lost.  At  mid- 
night he  had  lost  $400.  The  two  cotton-buyers  were 
the  "  big"  winners. 

"  See  here,  boys,"  said  Pap,  "I'm  losing  a  good 
deal  of  money.  Let's  change  the  ante  and  see  if  it 
will  change  the  luck." 

"How  much?"  queried  one  of  the  cotton-buyers. 

"Well,  let's  make  the  '  blind'  $25." 

I  was  astounded.  The  cotton-buyers  objected,  but 
I  detected  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  the  eyes  of  both, 
despite  their  objections.  I  feared  they  would  yield 
— and  they  did. 

My  first  impression  was  that  old  Pap  had  become 
insane,  or  utterly  reckless.  Nevertheless,  there  was 
a  tightening  of  his  lips  that  indicated  something.  I 
placed  myself  behind  him  to  watch  his  hand.  I  ex- 
pected something,  I  knew  not  what. 

His  manner  of  discarding  surprised  me.  Every 
time  the  deal  was  with  one  of  the  cotton  buyers,  Ful- 
ler would  get  a  small  pair.  When  the  hands  were 
"  helped"  there  came  to  him  "  threes."  Instead  of 
keeping  the  pair,  he  began  to  discard  it,  keeping  an 
ace  and  king  whenever  he  had  them. 


Pap  Fullers  Game  of  Poker.  117 

Several  times  he  could  have  made  a  "full"  had  he 
kept  his  "  pair."  I  began  to  think  he  was  mad.  He 
lost,  but  not  much.  Occasionally  he  would  "call" 
a  hand,  but  generally,  with  an  anathema  on  his 
luck,  he  threw  up  his  cards.  I  only  saw  that  he  was 
holding  an  ace  and  king  when  he  could  get  them, 
and  throwing  away  good  pairs. 

By-and-by  it  happened  that  he  got  a  pair  of  jacks, 
an  ace,  king,  and  another.  He  discarded  the  jacks, 
held  the  ace  and  king,  and  called  for  three  cards. 
To  my  unbounded  astonishment,  when  the  hands 
were  helped,  he  received  three  kings. 

He  now  held  four  kings,  with  an  ace,  the  highest 
hand  in  the  game!  In  a  moment  the  whole  policy 
of  the  wary  old  rat  flashed  over  me. 

He  led  off  by  betting  $10.  The  next  man  "  went 
out."  The  next  was  one  of  the  cotton  dealers.  He 
raised  the  captain  $25.  The  next  man  was  the  other 
dealer,  and  he,  after  some  pretended  anxiety,  "went 
$50  better."  The  next  man  passed  out.  To  his  left 
was  Pap. 

The  veteran's  face  seemed  to  express  infinite  dis- 
satisfaction over  the  heavy  betting.  He  hesitated, 
and  then  "  saw  "  the  $50  "  better." 

The  first  cotton  man  deliberated  awile,  and  then 
raised  the  pile  $100.  No.  2  was  astounded  at  such 
heavy  betting,  thought  of  laying  down,  but  finally 
"  went  over  "  his  friend.  Again  Pap  called  the  man 
on  his  right. 

In  this  way  the  betting  went  on.  Fuller  always 
called  the  last  man,  and  the  other  going  a  little 
higher  each  time.  In  a  few  minutes  the  amount  on 
the  table  reached  the  respectable  sum  of  $1,700. 

Up  to  this  point  the  bets  had  been  by  fifties  and 
hundreds.  At  this  juncture  the  captain  reached  in- 


118  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

to  his  inside  vest  pocket,  and  pulled  out  an  enormous 
roll  of  bills. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  I'm  going  to  make  a 
spoon  or  spoil  a  horn.  I  raise  that  last  $2,000;"  so 
saying  he  laid  four  $500  bills  on  the  piles. 

The  cotton  dealers  seemed  suddenly  taken  aback. 
They  shot  suspicious  glances  at  the  cast-iron  visage 
of  old  Pap,  but  it  was  as  void  of  expression  as  the 
face  of  an  anvil.  They  studied,  hesitated,  and 
shifted  about  uneasily.  Finally  one  of  them  went 
up  to  the  safe  of  the  boat  and  brought  out  their 
pile.  It  was  just  large  enough  for  one  of  them  to 
call.  He  "  called  "  Fuller,  and  the  other"  went  out." 

The  cotton  dealer  had  four  tens.  The  captain  ex- 
hibited his  four  kings  and  raked  down  the  enor- 
mous pile  of  greenbacks. 

The  cotton-dealers  turned  decidedly  pale,  and  sat 
speechless  and  stupefied.  Soon  after,  without  a 
word,  they  withdrew  to  their  state-rooms. 

"You  see,  my  boy,"  said  Pap,  as  he  poured  me 
out  a  little  "commissary,"  "I  made  up  my  mind 
them  fellows  were  sharp.  Nobody  ever  beat  me  in 
a  square  '  game '  as  they've  beat  me  for  the  last 
week." 

"  That  is  so." 

"  So  I  studied  the  thing  out.  I  wasn't  going  to 
squeal.  You  seen  how  I  worked  it.  I  just  held  on 
to  an  ace  and  king,  knowing  that  bimeby  the  rest 
would  come  along.  Bimeby  they  did  come.  Them 
cussed  fools  had  put  up  the  keards,  and  they  thought 
I  had  a  king  '  full '  with  jacks.  But  you  see  I  didn't. 
Oh,  110,  I  guess  not." 

And  the  captain  proceeded  to  arrange,  and  lay 
away,  in  an  iron  chest,  his  winnings,  which  amount- 
ed to  something  over  $5,000. 


Pap  Fuller's  Game  of  Poker.  119 

"I'm  more'n  even  with  'em,  I  reckon,"  said  the 
veteran,  with  a  satisfactory  shake  of  his  grizzly 
head. 

The  next  day,  the  two  sharpers  borrowed  enough 
of  old  Pap  to  pay  their  fare  to  St.  Louis.  They  left 
in  the  next  boat,  and  were  never  again  seen  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Tutt  or  Pap  Fuller. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF   GEN. 
STEELE. 


FRED. 


T  was  in  1861  that  I  became  acquainted  with 
the  gallant  gentleman  whose  name  heads 
these  recollections.  It  was  in  July.  At 
that  time,  Lyon,  at  the  head  of  a  small  force, 
composed  of  three-months'  volunteers — some 
"Missouri  Dutchmen,"  as  they  were  popularly 
termed — was  crossing  Missouri,  from  Booneville  to 
Springfield. 

One  night,  just  before  dark,  Lyon's  little  command 
reached  the  Osage  Crossing,  where  we  met  another 
force,  consisting  of  some  Kansas  cavalry  and  a  bat- 
talion of  regular  infantry,  under  command  of  Major 
Sturgis.  To  our  eyes  there  was  nothing  ever  half 
so  warlike  and  redoubtable  as  this  squadron  of  Kan- 
sas cavalry,  as  it  was  drawn  up  in  line  to  receive  us. 
With  their  carbines  slung  over  their  shoulders,  and 
their  long  steel  sabres,  the  men  seemed,  to  our  un- 
sophisticated vision  to  be  invincible.  A  sentiment 
akin  to  pity  percolated  through  my  thoughts  as  I 
thought  of  the  rebels  who  should  be  doomed  to  meet 
these  heroes. 

That  evening  was  occupied,  after  the  camp  had 
been  established,  in  visiting  the  new-comers.  Being 
a  member  of  that  gallant  band  known  as  "Bohe- 
mians," I  had  the  privilege  of  going  where  and  doing 
about  as  I  pleased.  Therefore,  when  the  colonel, 


Recollections  of  Q-en.  Fred.  Steele.  121 

who  did  me  the  honor  to  share  with  me  his  tent, 
mess,  and  bottle,  went  over  to  pay  his  respects  to 
Major  Sturgis,  I  was  invited  to  grace  the  occasion. 

Never,  perhaps,  was  there  a  more  representative 
military  crowd  than  was  embodied  in  the  majority 
of  those  gathered  that  evening  in  Major  Sturgis' 
tent.  There  were  the  genial  "Sam.  Sturgis," — so 
termed  by  his  familiars  of  the  regular  army, — Capt. 
Gordon  Granger,  Capt.  Dan.  Heuston,  Capt.  Totten, 
Capt.  Fred.  Steele,  Lieuts.  Sokalski,  Sullivan,  and 
others, — many  of  whom  have  since  achieved  a  world- 
wide reputation;  and  of  whom  some,  alas !  have 
passed  forever  beyond  the  domain  of  convivial 
gatherings. 

At  that  time,  as  every  one  knows,  a  regular  army 
officer  was  something  for  the  mass  to  look  up  to.  I 
well  remember  the  momentary  daze  which  came 
over  me  as  I  was  introduced  to  so  many  luminaries 
that  had  risen  in  the  orient  of  West  Point.  It  speaks 
volumes,  likewise,  for  the  suavity  of  these  gentle- 
men, to  state  that,  although  ununiformed  and  intro- 

dvced  as  plain  Mr. ,  and  without  any  allusion 

being  made  to  my  profession,  not  one  of  these  men, 
during  the  evening,  forgot  or  mispronounced  my 
name,  or  ignored  my  presence,  in  the  lively  and 
prolonged  conversation  which  ensued.  Such  an 
example  of  politenese^  let  me  add,  is  not  uncommon 
among  the  older  army  officers,  although  it  is  unfre- 
quent  among  no  small  number  of  their  successors. 

I  met,  on  that  evening,  two  events — if  I  may  so 
term  them — which  I  had  never  met  before,  and 
which  I  am  certain  never  to  forget.  One  of  these 
"events" — may  his  shade  pardon  me! — was  Capt. 
Fred.  Steele;  and  the  other  "event"  was  the 


122  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

elixir  vitoe,  the  nectar  of  the  regular  army, — whisky 
toddy. 

Introductions  were  no  more  than  ended  when 
Sturgis  remarked: 

"Orderly,  get  out  the  materials.  Gentlemen,  I 
want  you  to  taste  some  of  Steele's  toddy.  He  is  the 
best  toddy-maker  in  the  world  ! " 

The  delicate,  slender,  light-featured  Capt.  Steele 
came  modestly  forward,  and,  almost  blushing  under 
the  encomiums  of  his  chief,  went  to  work.  How 
carefully  and  artistically  he  labored  !  So  much  of 
the  pure  sugar,  so  much  water,  so  much  rye;  a  drop 
more  or  less,  a  grain  too  many  or  little,  were  ruin — 
were  a  catastrophe  worse  than  a  daub  of  house-paint 
in  the  face  of  Correggio's  Magdalene.  The  ingre- 
dients mixed  with  a  precision  greater  than  that  of  a 
druggist  who  puts  up  a  prescription  wherein  a  sin- 
gle additional  grain  makes  the  whole  a  deadly 
poison, — then  came  the  quaffing.  The  small,  white 
hand  of  Steele  passed  around  the  tin  cups,  and  then, 
with  a  gutteral  "How!"  each  man  inverted  his 
measure  just  above  his  lower  lip. 

Ye  gods  !  io  triumphe  I — I  shall  never  forget  the 
delicious  sensation  which  stole  through  my  system, 
like  slow-moving,  electric  flashes,  as  the  concoction 
ran  down  my  throat.  The  brew  of  Steele  is  abso- 
lutely indescribable. 

Accedant  capiti  cornua,  Bacchus  eris, 

But,  in  that  tent  on  the  Osage,  one  needed  not  to 
put  on  horns  to  become  Bacchus;  he,  the  rather, 
swallowed  a  "horn"  of  Steele's  concoction,  and 
straightway  became  a  god. 

Such  are  my  first  recollections  of  Steele.  He 
struck  me  then  for  his  finished  elegance  of  manner. 


'Recollections  of  Gen.  Fred.  Steele.  123 

As  toddy  succeeded  toddy,  voices  grew  louder,  and 
bursts  of  laughter  rang  out  wide  through  the  forest. 
Steele  alone  did  not  become  boisterous.  His  pale 
cheeks  simply  became  delicately  tinted,  as  if  from  a 
touch  of  rouge;  his  blue  eyes  lighted  up,  as  if  from 
inspiration;  and  his  thin  voice  became  stronger,  but 
not  louder,  as  the  wassail  grew  fast  and  furious. 

Steele  was  never  demonstrative.  And  so  the  cool- 
ness with  which  he  faced  the  iron  a'nd  leaden  storm 
at  Wilson's  Creek  was  not  recognized  as  a  trait 
requiring  universal  panegyric  or  immediate  promo- 
tion. 

The  next  time  I  saw  him  was  at  Helena,  in  No- 
vember of  1862.  He  was  in  command  of  the  post. 
Wishing  facilities  for  getting  about,  I  called  at  his 
headquarters.  I  wrote  my  request  on  a  card,  and 
sent  it  in  by  an  orderly.  He  returned  almost  instantly 
with  a  request  to  come  in.  A  shaking  of  hands, 
and  then  an  adjournment  to  a  small  room  adjoining, 
in  which  was  a  sideboard,  and  on  which  was  a  row 
of  gleaming  decanters.  Close  by  was  sugar;  and 
soon  there  came  water!  Steele,  although  then  a 
major-general,  had  not  forgotten  his  cunning.  He 
mixed  as  dextrously  as  when  a  captain;  and  I  could 
not  taste  the  slightest  depreciation  in  the  character  of 
his  production. 

It  was  but  a  little  later  that  Sherman's  force 
decended  the  Mississippi  river  and  debarked  on  the 
Yazoo  bottom.  I  accompanied  General  Steele  on 
the  steamer  "Continental."  We  overtook  Christ- 
mas, or  Christmas  overtook  us,  on  our  way  down. 
The  grand  old  anniversary  was  celebrated  in  due 
form.  I  retired  soon  after  dark  to  escape  what  I  knew 
would  prove  •  an  all-night  symposium.  For  hours, 
sleep  was  chased  away  by  a  jollity  that  found  vent 


124  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

in  song,  anecdote,  and  laughter.  The  next  morning 
saw  a  humbled  crowd  among  those  who,  toward 
noon,  crept  painfully  from  their  berths.  Steele 
alone  was  an  exception.  Up  betimes  in  the  morn- 
ing, his  eye  was  as  clear,  his  voice  as  free  from 
huskiness,  and  his  hand  as  firm  as  though  the  pre- 
ceding night  had  been  one  of  profound  repose. 

And  here,  as  I  approached  the  battle  of  Chickasaw 
Bayou,  let  me  diverge  to  state  something  which  I  do 
not  think  was  ever  before  published.  On  the  night 
that  we  reached  Johnson's  Landing,  on  the  Yazoo,  a 
party  of  us  gathered  in  the  "texas  "  of  a  steamer,  to 
while  away  the  evening  with  a  game  of  cards.  One 
of  the  players  was  Colonel  John  B.  Wyman,  whose 
name  will  meet  with  universal  recognition.  Who 
the  other  players  were,  does  not  matter. 

All  that  evening  Wyman  was  abstracted  and  un- 
easy.    When  playing,  he    played  badly  and  care 
lessly,  as  if  his  mind  were  on  some  other  subject. 
Between  the  deals  he  would  rise  and  pace  the  nar- 
row room,  with  bowed  head  and  preoccupied  air. 

"What  is  it,  colonel?"  I  asked. 

"I  don't  know,  myself.  I  think  I  shall  fight  to- 
morrow. My  boys  have  never  had  a  brush  yet.  I 
want  them  to  do  well." 

"They  will,  of  course  ! " 

'•  Oh,  yes,  I'll  bet  they  will!  But,  Christ!  how 
uneasy  I  am.  I  wish  I  could  hear  from  home.  My 
wife  —  •"  and  here  his  voice  sank  into  a  mutter 
which  was  indistinguishable. 

And  so  till  midnight.  As  we  were  about  to  part 
for  the  night,  I  said: 

"  Colonel,  if  you  take  your  boys  on  the  bluff  to- 
morrow, it  will  give  you  a  star." 


Recollections  of  Gen.  Fred.  Steele.  125 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  something  will  happen,  I  am 

sure." 

And  then,  with  a  preoccupied  air,  he  added,  as  if 
to  himself,  "  If  I  could  only  hear  from  home — from 
my  wife " 

And  I  heard  no  more.  The  next  morning,  in  a 
preliminary  movement,  he  was  shot  through  the 
lungs.  In  less  than  twenty-four  hours  after  we 
parted,  I  saw  him  again — this  time  a  corpse. 

Just  before  dark  Steele  moved  his  command,  on 
the  extreme  federal  left,  into  position,  in  front  of 
the  rebel  lines.  We  pushed  out  along  a  high  levee, 
and  then  the  command  deployed  off  to  the  left  and 
lay  down.  It  was  as  dark  as  Erebus,  and  cold  as 
the  lowermost  of  Dante's  hells.  An  assault  had  been 
ordered  at  daylight  next  morning.  As  we  were 
under  the  rebel  guns,  no  fires  could  be  lighted. 

Just  before  daybreak,  Steele's  orderly  built  a  little 
fire  behind  the  gnarled  roots  of  an  immense  cedar, 
and  proceeded  to  boil  some  coffee.  Around  the  tiny 
blaze  were  gathered  General  Steele;  Hovey,  of  the 
Illinois  Normal  School;  Thayer,  of  Nebraska;  and 
myself. 

A  day  or  two  before  I  had  picked  up  a  copy  of 
Andrew's  Ovid,  near  some  deserted  house.  As  we 
gathered  about  the  fire,  Steele  noticed  the  end  of  the 
book  protruding  from  my  haversack.  He  pulled  it 
out  and  opened  it.  Turning  by  chance  to  the  ac- 
count of  the  nuptials  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda,  he 
read  aloud,  giving  a  line  in  Latin,  and  then  render- 
ing it  in  English.  At  length  he  came  to  the  passage : 

"  pennisque  f  ugacem 
Pegason  ct  f  ratrera,  matris  de  sanguine." 

Here  he  seemed  to  have  some  doubt  as  to  the  pre- 
cise meaning  of  a  word.   Then  occurred  a  discussion 


126  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

which  was  classical  and  profound,  and  might  have 
continued  indefinitely  had  not  Hovey  given  an  opin- 
ion, which,  owing  to  his  Normal  School  precedents, 
was  acquiesced  in  as  being  beyond  appeal. 

I  relate  this  little  incident  simply  to  show  Steele's 
complete  indifference  to  danger.  Not  half  a  mile 
away  lay  a  line  of  rebel  rifle  pits  which  were  to  be 
stormed.  Just  beyond  them  rose  heights  bristling 
with  heavy  guns,  every  one  of  which  commanded 
our  camp.  An  attack  was  expected  to  be  ma,de 
within  a  few  minutes,  and  which  everybody  knew 
must  be  a  failure.  And  yet,  at  this  precise  moment, 
Steele  was  as  cool  and  unruffled  as  if  the  next  move 
were  to  be  to  breakfast  instead  of  battle.  When  the 
moment  came  for  attack,  Steele  moved  forward 
along  a  road  swept  by  rebel  guns  as  coolly  as  if  he 
were  leading  his  company  at  dress  parade. 

I  might  relate  any  number  of  instances  of  Steele's 
behavior  in  battle,  every  one  of  which  would  prove 
him  a  man  who,  if  not  absolutely  insensible  to  fear, 
never  allowed  the  shadow  of  apprehension  to  dwell 
upon  his  face.  Once,  on  the  march  from  Jackson,  to 
Vicksburg,  I  saw  him  enter  a  store  alone  which  was 
filled  with  a  maddened  crowd  of  Federal  soldiers, 
who  were  drunk  to  desperation,  and  who  presented 
their  loaded  muskets  at  the  breasts  of  their  own 
officers.  With  only  a  small  revolver  in  his  hand,  he 
dashed  into  the  centre  of  the  howling  mass,  and  in 
three  minutes  he  had  driven  every  ruffian  into  the 
street.  There  was  a  murderous  glare  in  his  eye, 
and  a  compression  of  his  lips,  which  carried  a  mean- 
ing that  no  one  of  the  plundering  horde  could  mis- 
understand. 

Of  his  charges  on  the  19th  of  May,  at  Vicksburg, 
and  his  subsequent  military  career,  I  need  not  speak. 


Recollections  of  Gen.  Fred.  Steele.  127 

In  every  instance  he  showed  himself  impervious  to 
danger. 

As  a  commander,  Steele  was  better  calculated  to 
lead  a  corps  under  somebody  else,  than  he  was  to 
have  charge  of  an  independent  department.  He 
preferred  to  execute  rather  than  to  plan.  It  left 
him  a  leisure  on  his  hands  which  he  could  devote 
to  social  intercourse  and  intellectual  cultivation. 

I  believe  he  was  not  married  at  the  time  of  his 
death.  He  was  always  an  ardent  admirer  of  wo- 
men, but  mainly  in  the  old,  chivalrous  way.  Full 
of  anecdote  and  reminiscence,  he  yet  never  made 
the  frailities  of  woman  the  theme  of  such  relation. 
In  all  his  acts  he  treated  the  sex  with  a  courtly,  re- 
spectful tenderness. 

His  hospitality  was  unbounded,  providing  his 
guests  possessed  geniality.  His  mess  was  always  a 
crowded  one,  most  of  whom  were  invited  partici- 
pants. Any  man  who  was  cultivated  was  always 
sure  of  finding  himself  welcome. 

The  intelligence  of  his  death  will  cause  a  wide 
and  profound  sorrow.  Those  who  know  him  well 
entertain  a  respect  for  his  memory  second  to  that 
felt  for  no  illustrious  man  whom  the  country  has 
lost  since  the  beginning  of  the  rebellion. 

I  will  close  these  recollections  with  a  sketch  which 
I  once  made  of  the  appearance  of  Gen.  Steele,  at  a 
time,  in  1863,  when  I  was  in  daily  intercourse  with 
him. 

*  *  *  Like  a  Geneva  watch,  he  presents  but 
little  surface.  His  merits,  the  fine  machinery  and 
exquisite  balance,  are  all  within.  A  small  and  well- 
knit  man  of  38  ;  with  a  hand  delicate  and  white  as 
a  lady's  ;  light  complexion,  only  preserved  from 
effeminacy  by  a  flowing  beard  ;  eyes  of  light  blue, 


128  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

and  a  full,  compact  forehead ;  dress  neat,  elegant, 
with  a  touch  of  velvet  about  the  cuff  and  collar ; 
always  free  from  dust,  and  as  clean  as  if  stepping 
out  for  a  dress-para-de  at  his  alma  mater — West 
Point — such  are  the  outer  peculiarities  of  General 
Steele.  Without  ever  being  over-dressed,  he  is,  I 
think,  the  best  dressed  and  best  mounted  man  in  the 
army.  His  prevailing  trait  is  quietness,— a  gentle- 
manly sort  of  repose, — which  he  carries  with  him 
undisturbed,  whether  doing  the  honors  of  the  table 
to  his  friends,  or  directing  the  movements  of  a  storm- 
ing party,  amidst  the  roar  of  fiercest  battle.  Few 
soldiers  among  volunteers  love,  but  all  respect  him. 
As  a  strict,  unyielding  disciplinarian,  he  frequently 
excites  their  dislike;  but  his  unruffled  calmness 
when  surrounded  by  the  surging  waves  of  battle; 
his  pre-eminent  skill  in  guiding  their  movements; 
and  the  lightning-like  rapidity  with  which  he  adapts 
himself  to  the  new  combinations  created  in  a  con- 
flict— compel  their  admiration,  and  have  won  their 
highest  respect. 

He  chats  with  you  unconcernedly  up  to  the  very 
moment  he  enters  a  battle;  and,  the  instant  it  is 
over,  resumes  his  sociability,  and  discourses  upon 
general  subjects  as  if  the  affair  through  which  he 
had  passed  were  of  as  little  account  as  washing  his 
hands  for  dinner. 


SOME  PEOPLE  I  HAVE  MET. 


N  the  latter  part  of  1862,  for  several  months, 
I  was  in  Washington.     At  that  time  almost 
everybody  of  note  was  at  the  front;  but  now 
and  then  the  capital  was  enlivened  by  the 
presence  of  some  one  who  was  worth  taking  a 
second  look  at. 
I  was  standing  one  day  in  front  of  the  Metropoli- 
tan, in  company  with  a  son  of  Dr.  Tom  Edwards. 

'•Do  you  see  that  little  cuss  coming  along  yon- 
der?" inquired  my  companion,  as  he  pointed  up  the 
avenue. 

Following  the  line  of  his  index  finger,  there  ap- 
peared what  I,  at  first,  took  to  be  a  boy.  It  was  an 
individual  scarcely  more  than  four  feet  nine,  and 
slender  in  proportion.  He  approached  us  at  a  tear- 
ing gait  for  such  an  infant.  His  slender  legs  were 
alternately  planting  a  delicate  patent  leather  boot 
on  the  sidewalk  in  what  was  the  double-quick  of 
going  on  a  walk.  A  little  cane  kept  time,  like  a  pen- 
dulum made  of  astraw,  to  the  swift  movement  of  his 
extremities.  A  little  eye-glass  bestrode  a  rather 
large  nose;  a  low-crowned  hat  was  on  a  small  head. 
All  this  I  took  in  as  he  approached  us.  The  next 
moment  he  shot  by  us  like  an  infant  hurricane. 
I  had  but  just  time  to  notice  that  he  had  the  Fed- 
eral eagles  on  his  shoulders,  that  he  was,  although 


130  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

whiskerless,  wrinkled  up  to  about  forty-five,  and 
that  he  marched  with  the  upper  portion  of  his  body 
bent  forward,  while  his  eyes  were  fixed  immovably 
upon  the  ground,  at  the  regulation  distance  of  fif- 
teen paces  to  the  front,  as  if  he  were  deeply  preoc- 
cupied: 

"  Can't  say  I  do  know  him.  I  should  say  he  is  a 
very  old  young  man,  or  a  very  young  old  man. 
Who  is  he,  any  how?" 

"That's  Prince  Salm  Salm." 

"Oh!" 

"  Yes.  A  fighter,  too,  he  is  !  I  saw  him  at  Bull 
Run.  I  was  running  away  one  way  on  foot,  when  I 
met  him  running  away  the  other  way  on  a  horse.  I 
just  ketched  his  bridle,  and  says  I,  '  Look  here,  cap- 
ten,  we  want  that  horse  for  the  artillery!'  He 
jumped  off  without  a  word  and  struck  out  on  exactly 
the  same  gait  that  I  had  just  been  falling  back  on. 
I  slid  into  his  saddle  and  kept  on  falling  back  till  I 
got  to  Washington." 

The  next  time  I  saw  the  noble  infant,  he  was 
gorgeous  in  Federal  uniform.  On  his  right  arm,  and 
towering  a  full  head  above  him,  was  a  royal  dame, 
who,  although  not  really  tall,  rose  to  a  Juno-like 
stature,  when  contrasted  with  her  slender  protector. 
Her  eyes  were  large,  liquid,  and  filled  with  a  sort  of 
oriental  languor.  They  were  a  blue-black,  and 
seemed  to  express  infinite  tranquillity  and  self-pos- 
session. Her  hair  was  very  heavy,  of  a  very  dark 
brown,  and  was  carried  back  in  bands  after  a  style 
which  I  can  not  describe,  but  which  gave  force  to 
the  character  of  her  head  without  detracting  from 
the  womanly  softness  of  her  face.  Her  lips  were 
full,  her  mouth  handsomely  cut,  her  complexion  a 
mixture,  as  if  it  were  the  results  of  combining  the 


Some  People  I  Have  Met.  131 

more  delicate  light  and  shadow  of  the  blonde  and 
brunette  with  the  least  possible  predominance  of 
the  latter.  Her  dress  was  very  rich,  and  yet  in 
no  respect  gaudy.  Her  movement  was  erect  and 
elastic,  her  bearing  a  compromise  between  haughti- 
ness and  gentleness,  with  a  perceptible  dash  of 
both. 

In  age,  she  was  about  twenty-four;  and  in  appear- 
ance, she  was  a  woman  whom  a  man  would  first 
glance  at  wonderingly,  and  then  turn  to  look  at 
admiringly.  Such  was  the  Princess  Salm  Salm,  as 
I  then,  and  frequently  after,  saw  her,  arm  in  arm, 
on  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  with  her  diminutive  hus- 
band. 

One  night,  Washington  was  ablaze  with  excite- 
ment. "  General  Corcoran  had  returned  from  a  South- 
ern prison,  and  there  was  to  be  a  reception,  a  sere- 
nade, and  speeches,  at  Willard's.  At  the  appointed 
time,  I  sauntered  down  to  the  hotel,  in  front  of  a 
balcony,  from  whence  the  speaking  was  expected. 
I  placed  my  back  against  a  vacant  tree,  and,  thus 
luxuriously  situated,  I  awaited  the  coming  of  events. 
I  had  barely  arranged  myself  when  I  was  staggered 
by  a  tremendous  blow  on  my  shoulder.  My  first 
idea  was  that  I  had  been  struck  by  a  falling  chim- 
ney, and  then,  upon  looking  around,  I  saw  a  quasi 
acquaintance,  an  office-seeking  Goliath,  named  Cap- 
tain Payson,  withdrawing  a  hand,  the  shape  and 
size  of  a  ham,  from  my  shoulder. 

It  was  a  way  Payson  had  of  attracting  one's  atten- 
tion. He  was  a  man  who  would  awaken  a  sleeping 
child  by  firing  a  200-pound  cannon  near  its  ear,  or 
knock  a  man's  brain  s  out  in  attempting  to  brush  a 
fly  from  his  forehead. 


132  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

"  I  want  to  introduce  a  friend,"  said  he.  I  glanced 
up.  By  his  side  stood  a  gentleman  of  about  forty- 
five  years  of  age,  tall,  elegantly  formed,  with  light 
hair,  a  complexion  evidently  once  fresh,  but  now 
approaching  somewhat  the  color  of  sole-leather,  and 
seamed  with  a  thousand  infinitesimal  wrinkles,  as 
if  they  had  been  ploughed  with  the  point  of  a  cam- 
bric needle.  His  eyes  were  a  mild  gray,  his  features, 
regular  and  mobile,  and  his  bearing  erect  and  digni- 
fied. 

"  Gentlemen,  know  each  other,  Mr.  Blank,  Colonel 
Charles  Edward  Lester,"  and  Pay  son  drew  out  this 
name  till  it  seemed  as  long  as  an  average  clothes- 
line. 

"  Gallants,  lads,  boys,  hearts  of  gold,"  said  the 
stranger  in  a  sonorous,  musical  voice,  and  with  an 
unmoved  countenance  ;  "all  the  titles  of  good  fel- 
lowship come  to  you  !  What,  shall  we  be  merry? 
Shall  we  have  a  drink  extempore?" 

Piloted  equally  by  the  captain  and  the  colonel,  I 
crossed  the  street,  and  threaded  a  devious  route  to 
some  secluded  retreat,  where  prohibitory  liquor  law 
was  supposed  to  have  no  jurisdiction.  We  "  smiled" 
and  "smiled  again,"  and  then  commenced  my  ac- 
quaintance with  the  author  of  the  "  Glory  and 
Shame  of  England,"  and  who  proved  one  of  the  most 
remarkable,  in  many  respects,  men  whom  I  have 
ever  known. 

We  returned  to  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  Willard's. 
Just  then,  Colonel  Mulligan  came  forward  on  the 
balcony  and  began  to  speak. 

Lester  listened  a  few  moments,  and  then  remarked: 

"By  heavens!  There's  more  electricity  in  that 
man's  oratory  than  in  that  of  any  other  man  I  have 
ever  listened  to." 


Some  People  I  Have  Met.  133 

A  little  later,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  making  these 
two  men  acquainted.  Mulligan  was  a  warm  ad- 
mirer of  Lester's  principal  work.  They  fraternized 
at  once  ;  and  one  of  the  most  brilliant  interchanges 
of  thought  I  ever  listened  to  followed,  but  which 
came  to  an  abrupt  termination,  in  about  five  min- 
utes, by  the  sudden  recollection  of  the  author  that  it 
had  been  as  much  as  ten  minutes  since  he  had  taken 
a  drink. 

Mulligan  would  not  go ;  Lester  would.  And  so 
they  parted — mutually  pleased,  and  mutually  disap- 
pointed. 

Lester  was,  or  is,  the  finest  conversationalist 
whom  I  have  ever  heard,  and.  if  he  will  pardon  the 
additional  compliment, the  most  incorrigible  bummer. 
For  three  months,  I  impoverished  myself  in  paying 
for  his  whisky,  simply  to  hear  him  talk.  He  was 
equally  firm  on  two  points ;  one  of  these  was,  to 
never  refuse  an  invitation  to  a  drink,  and  the  other 
was  never  to  pay  for  one. 

The  latter  reason  was  founded  upon  adequate  pe- 
cuniary premises. 

No  subject  was  foreign  to  his  abilities.  Once  Con- 
sul at  Genoa,  and  an  extensive  traveler,  he  appeared 
to  know  all  men  and  all  places.  He  seemed  as  fa- 
miliar with  authors  as  ordinary  men  are  with  the 
alphabet. 

It  was  a  custom  of  mine,  on  Sunday  morning,  if 
the  day  promised  to  be  fair,  to  purchase  a  quart  of 
whisky,  hire  a  carriage,  find  the  colonel,  and  drive 
somewhere  in  the  charming  vicinity  of  Kalorama. 
Some  green  and  shady  spot  would  be  selected,  the 
hack  turned  loose,  the  bottle  conveniently  arranged, 
so  as  to  lie  equally  within  "striking  distance"  of 


134  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

both,  and  then  would  begin  an  entertainment  which 
I  shall  never  forget. 

My  part  was  little  more  than  to  listen,  to  some- 
times suggest  a  topic,  to  oftener  repress  emotions 
which  sprang  into  active  life  under  his  influence. 

His  style  varied  with  the  subject  of  his  conversa- 
tion. Now,  he  was  calm,  equable,  dignified;  again, 
his  words  rushed  forth,  a  torrent  of  fiery  enthusi- 
asm; or  he  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  broken  with  sobs, 
while  his  face  was  bathed  with  tears. 

Where  or  how  he  lived  in  Washington,  I  never 
knew  or  inquired.  He  was  to  be  found  at  certain 
hours  about  Williard's,  awaiting  an  invitation  to 
drink.  He  spoke  often  of  his  family  with  pride, 
and  never  of  his  wife  save  with  a  profound  respect. 
He  rarely  mentioned  the  latter  unless  it  was  to 
couple  her  with  some  apropos  poetical  quotation,  in 
which  the  tender  utterances  of  Milton's  Adam  to 
Eve  always  bore  a  prominent  part. 

One  day  I  suddenly  left  Washington.  The  last  I 
saw  of  my  friend,  the  author,  the  diplomat,  the  poet, 
philosopher,  statesman,  gentleman,  and  (then)  bum- 
mer, he  was  sitting  in  the  reading-room  at  Willard's, 
with  an  expression  on  his  face  of  intellectual  grand- 
eur, of  dignity,  of  benevolence,  and  of — unquench- 
able thirst. 


SOME  REMEMBERED  FACES. 


OOKING  backward,  through  an  experience 
of  a  quarter  of  a  century  or  more,  I  discover 
here  and  there  faces  which,  framed  in  di- 
verse events,  stand  out  with  the  distinctness 
of  fresh  and  well-executed  pictures. 

I  suppose  that  my  experience,  in  this  respect, 
is  not  singular;  and  that  others,  as  well  as  my- 
self, can,  with  a  retrospective  glance,  discover  these 
marked  faces,  which,  in  some  instances,  are 
wholly  dissociated  from  time  or  events. 

One  sees  them  as  he  might  a  portrait  suspended 
in  air,  or  in  a  vacuum,  and  entirely  bereft  of  sur- 
roundings. 

At  other  times,  these  faces  are  inseparably  inter- 
woven or  framed  with  incidents.  Now,  it  is  the 
smoke  of  a  battle;  again,  it  appears  in  the  green  of 
a  prairie;  in  the  white  surroundings  of  a  tent;  in  an 
illuminated  border  of  angry  countenances  and  flash- 
ing eyes.  Sometimes,  as  I  have  said,  the  face  alone 
remains;  and  I  know  neither,  when,  where,  nor  un- 
der what  circumstances  I  saw  it. 

Let  me  try  to  present  copies  of  two  or  three  of 
these  portraits.  I  can  not  answer  for  the  fidelity  of 
these  presentations.  To  embody  and  reproduce  what 
is  but  an  attenuated  memory  is  a  work  which  is  per- 
plexing, unsubstantial,  and,  in  its  results,  unsatis- 
factory. 


136  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

Once,  during  the  war,  I  was  in  the  wheel-house  of 
an  iron-clad  gun-boat,  on  the  Cumberland  river, 
About  six  hundred  yards  in  front  of  us  was  a  Con- 
federate battery.  Looking  through  the  small  orifice 
in  the  cuirassed  wheel-house,  I  could  see  only  a 
dense  white  smoke  which  lay  in  banks  about  the 
square  prow  of  our  vessel.  At  short  intervals  I  could 
see  a  broad  flash  of  red  flame  rive  its  way  through 
this  white  surrounding  like  a  vast  sheet  of  lightning 
shattering  some  mass  of  clouds. 

A  rumbling  and  massive  roar  accompanied  these 
flashes,  and  the  clumsy  iron  boat  shuddered  under 
the  recoil  of  the  guns. 

Incessantly  from  out  the  mass  of  vapor  that  en- 
veloped us  there  came  fierce  hissings  which  passed 
and  left  upon  the  air  a  vibration  like  an  echo.  At 
times,  this  hiss  would  suddenly  terminate,  and  the 
depths  of  the  drifting  masses,  about  us,  for  a  brief 
instant,  would  become  suddenly  roseate,  as  if  illu- 
minated by  a  flash  of  red  fire. 

My  companion,  the  pilot,  seemed  little  moved  by 
these  surroundings.  He  listened  to  the  signals  from 
below,  and  labored  to  hold  the  boat  immovable 
against  the  current.  He  was  a  tall  man,  with  an 
ordinary,  pleasant  face,  upon  which  there  rested 
only  an  expression  of  sober  earnestness. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  savage  hiss  from  out  the 
smoke,  then  the  turret  in  which  we  stood  seemed 
shattered  as  by  the  fall  upon  it  of  a  thousand  tons  of 
rock.  There  was  an  explosion  that  rent  my  ear 
with  deafening  violence,  and  I  was  dashed  violently 
backward.  At  the  same  moment,  a  jet  of  some 
warm  fluid  struck  me  across  the  face. 

Involuntarily,  I  turned  to  my  companion,  and  then 


Some  Remembered  Faces.  137 

I  saw  framed  one  of  those  faces  which  I  have  never 
forgotten. 

His  hands  still  grasped  the  wheel,  and  he  stood 
bare-headed  and  erect.  His  lips  were  just  parted,  as 
if  he  was  about  to  speak;  his  heavy  hair  seemed 
dashed  away  from  his  brow,  and  his  gray  eyes  looked 
straight  into  mine,  with  a  sad,  wondering  expres- 
sion. There  was  in  his  glance  something  infinitely 
solemn,  and  yet  expectant — a  mingling  of  what 
seemed  surprise  and  appeal. 

For  three  or  four  seconds  I  looked  at  this  face, 
over  which  there  was  moving  something  that  was 
like  the  shadow  of  rigidity.  His  lips  parted  more 
and  more,  his  jaw  began  to  settle  slowly  down,  and 
then  he  sank  like  a  mass  of  gelatine  to  the  floor. 

A  splinter  had  torn  open  his  breast,  and  he  was 
dead  before  his  hands  were  unclasped  from  the 
wheel. 

The  hair  thrown  back,  the  pleading  and  wonder- 
ing interrogation  of  his  glance,  the  awful  shadow  of 
fixedness  that  stole  across  his  face,  and  the  slow 
dropping  of  his  jaw,  form  one  of  the  portraits  which 
I  see  and  contemplate  even  yet  with  a  chill  of  hor- 
ror, as  I  review  these  memorable  faces  of  the  past. 

Shortly  after  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  in  wandering 
from  point  to  point  within  the  federal  lines,  I  found 
myself  belated,  at  dark,  at  the  little  town  of  Monte- 
rey, a  few  miles  west  of  Corinth.  In  questioning  a 
surgeon  as  to  the  location  of  a  point  I  wished  to  find, 
there  resulted  a  quasi-acquaintance,  which  ended  in 
my  being  cordially  invited  to  spend  the  night  at  his 
quarters.  We  remained  in  a  sort  of  field-dispensary 
until  long  after  taps,  and  then  I  was  shown  a  place 
to  sleep,  in  a  tent  a  short  distance  away. 


138  Army  and  Other  Sketches.'* 

The  night  was  calm,  and  the  regiments  were  bur- 
ied in  profound  repose.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  still- 
ness as  I  wrapped  myself  in  a  blanket  and  composed 
myself  to  slumber.  I  was  lingering  in  that  delight- 
ful region  which  divides  the  domain  of  wakefulness 
from  that  of  sleep,  when  there  came  through  the 
still  air  a  voice  which  said:  "  Oh,  Lord  !"  It  was 
apparently  a  thin,  childish  tone,  weakened  as  if  by 
suffering,  and  yet  penetrating  in  its  clearness. 

At  intervals  of  ten  minutes,  perhaps,  the  same 
voice  rang  out  the  same  "  Oh,  Lord  ! "  upon  the  still- 
ness. Sleep  seemed  to  follow  it  away  through  the 
darkness.  Hour  after  hour  passed,  and  still  I  lay 
awake,  listening  to  this  monotonous  cry.  It  did  not 
seem  one  of  terror.  It  appeared  rather  one  inspired 
by  loneliness,  by  suffering,  and  by  the  absence  of 
hope.  It  was  suggestive  of  the  tired  moan  of  a 
weary  child,  which  wishes  for,  yet  suffers,  and  is 
too  exhausted  to  rest. 

There  was  a  tone  in  it  as  if  pleading  for  relief,  and 
which,  so  thin,  so  weak,  so  boyish,  it  suggested  only 
the  relief  to  be  found  on  the  bosom  of  a  mother. 
And  thus,  pleading,  calling,  with  a  hint  of  queru- 
lousiiess,  the  plaint  was  heard  until  the  darkness 
began  to  dissolve  into  the  misty  gray  of  dawn. 

Fainter  came  the  voice  as  the  hours  moved  on, 
until,  at  daybreak,  it  had  passed  into  an  incoherent 
utterance,  and  then  ceased  altogether. 

Soon  after,  I  arose,  passed  out,  and  found  myself 
just  opposite  a  large  hospital  tent.,  which  lay  in  the 
direction  of  the  voice  which  had  timed  so  sadly  the 
weary  hours  of  the  night. 

Crossing  over,  I  pushed  aside  the  flap,  and  entered. 
Rows  of  cots  were  upon  either  side,  some  occupied 


Some  Remembered  Faces.  139 

and  some  empty.  In  response  to  my  inquiry,  a  sol- 
dier directed  me  to  a  cot  on  the  further  side. 

"He's  gone,"  said  my  sententious  informant. 

And  here,  upon  this  cot,  I  found  another  of  those 
faces  which  I  see  yet  with  the  same  distinctness 
that  I  saw  it  then. 

A  slender  form  was  outlined  from  beneath  the 
blanket.  The  shoulders  and  head  were  only  visible. 
It  was  not  a  poetical  face.  The  hair  was  unkempt, 
the  forehead  low,  and  the  contour  of  the  head  not 
striking.  But  the  face  was  small,  wasted,  and  boy- 
ish. The  lids  were  half  unclosed,  and  revealed  blue 
eyes  that  were  fixed  and  staring.  The  cheeks  were 
small  and  childish,  the  mouth  delicate,  while  over 
the  forehead,  cheeks,  and  chin  had  fastened  itself 
that  awful  rigidity  w'hich  so  completely  effaces  the 
elastic  expressions  of  life. 

The  characteristic  of  the  face  that  most  interested 
me,  was  its  youthfulness.  It  was  so  little,  so  weak. 
It  seemed  to  belong  to  one  who  should  have  been 
pillowed  in  a  cradle,  rather  than  to  have  been 
sent  out  into  the  great  world  to  grapple  alone  with 
death. 

Whose  child  it  was  that  thus  jnet  death  face  to  face, 
and,  unassisted,  and  unsupported,  carried  on  the  ter- 
rible struggle,  and  was  vanquished,  I  never  knew.  I 
have  only  a  knowledge  of  a  pale,  thin  young  face, 
that  lay  with  its  blue  eyes  staring  unmeaningly  into 
vacancy. 

Other  faces  present  themselves  to  this  retrospect. 
There  is  an  ineffably  sad  face,  womanly,  pale,  with 
dark  eyes  that  look  without  seeing,  masses  of  heavy 
black  hair  carefully  arranged,  compressed  lips,  with 
a  settled  expression  of  despair,  which  I  have  seen, 
but  when  and  where  I  know  not.  It  is  not  the  face 


140  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

of  a  picture,  but  of  a  woman  whom  I  have  some- 
where met,  whose  sorrow  has  always  commanded 
my  profound  sympathy,  and  whose  rare,  sad  beauty 
yet  preserves  for  itself  a  warm  admiration. 

There  are  other  faces,  fixed  and  intensified  as  they 
are  when  in  the  presence  of  mortal  peril.  Here  is 
one  of  a  blue-eyed  baby,  and  there  another  of  a  lout- 
ish boy,  or  some  laughing  girl,  or  the  corrugated 
front  of  some  paralytic  octogenarian. 

He  who  recalls  these  portraits,  who  studies  their 
traits,  will  be  surprised  to  find  how  much  more  last- 
ing are  sorrowful  than  sunny  faces.  He  will  find 
that  there  are  a  dozen  faces  in  his  mental  gallery 
that  scowl,  are  suffering,  are  flushed  with  painful 
emotions,  are  staring  in  death,  that  sadden,  where 
there  is  one  that  smiles,  and  to  recall  which,  and 
examine,  is  a  task  of  pleasure. 


A  REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  WAR. 


HE  incident  I  am  about  to  relate  is  one 
which,  during  the  sublime  convulsions  of  a 
great  war,  would  escape  notice.  It  is  a  lit- 
tle occurrence;  and  yet  it  contains  volumes  of 
meaning  with  reference  to  one  of  the  most  gal- 
lant men  who,  during  the  late  war,  drew  his 
sword  in  the  cause  of  the  government. 
It  was  in  the  month  of  April,  1863,  that  I  was  con- 
nected with  a  metropolitan  newspaper  as  its  west- 
ern correspondent.  At  the  precise  time  of  which  I 
am  about  to  write,  Grant  had  run  the  Vicksburg 
batteries,  and  had  crossed  a  portion  of  his  army  just 
below  Grand  Gulf.  The  advance,  under  Osterhaus, 
had  repulsed  the  confederates  in  front  of  Port  Gib- 
son, and  had  reached  Black  river  on  its  northward 
march.  Here  Osterhaus  had  been  joined  by  Gen- 
eral Grant;  and  a  halt  of  two  or  three  days  was  de- 
termined upon,  in  order  to  allow  a  concentration  of 
the  Federal  forces,  who  reached  all  the  way  from 
Richmond,  nearly  opposite  Vicksburg,  around  by 
Perkins'  plantation,  Grand  Gulf,  Bruinsburg  and 
Port  Gibson,  to  Grant's  headquarters  at  Black  river. 
When  these  forces  were  concentrated,  it  was  in- 
tended to  resume  the  march  around  Vicksburg  via 
Jackson,  the  capital  of  Mississippi. 


142  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

I  accompanied  the  advance,  and  reached  Black 
river  at  the  same  time  as  did  the  commander-in- 
chief .  Upon  arrival  there,  I  found  myself  wof ully 
in  need  of  a  change  of  clothing.  My  baggage  was 
all  upon  the  boat  at  the  Federal  landing  opposite 
Vicksburg.  When  the  expedition  had  started  to 
move  below  Vicksburg,  there  was  a  universal  disbe- 
lief in  its  success.  I  shared  this  opinion  ;  and,  antici- 
pating a  defeat,  and  possibly  the  necessity  of  a  hasty 
retreat,  I  had  moved  in  light  marching  order  •  that 
is,  I  limited  myself  to  the  single  suit  of  clothes  which 
I  wore,  and  the  necessary  paraphernalia  of  a  Bo- 
hemian. The  march  to  Black  river  occupied  some 
time  ;  the  route  was  dirty  ;  it  had  rained  frequently; 
and,  there  being  but  few  tents  with  the  advance, 
—the  baggage  being  left  at  the  river, — I  found  my- 
self looking  more  like  a  chimney-sweep  than  a  re- 
spectable journalist.  Having  learned  that  the  army 
would  remain  certainly  as  many  as  three  days  at 
its  position  on  Black  river,  I  determined  to  return 
to  the  landing  opposite  Vicksburg,  and  rehabilitate 
myself  in  a  shape  conducive,  at  least,  to  cleanliness. 

These  particulars  are  unimportant,  save  as  they 
may  serve  to  recall  the  Federal  movements,  likewise 
as  they  may  indirectly  bear  upon  the  position  in 
which  I  soon  after  found  myself. 

To  reach  the  Vicksburg  landing,  I  had  a  ride  of 
forty  miles  to  Grand  Gulf  ;  then  a  trip  by  steamer 
to  the  other  side  of  the  Mississippi,  at  Perkins'  plan- 
tation; and  then  'a  ride  of  thirty  miles  more  to  the 
landing.  I  calculated  thas  the  trip  would  occupy  a 
day  and  a  half  each  way  ;  and  I  should,  therefore, 
be  able  to  return  to  headquarters  on  Black  river 
within  three  days,  or  before  the  Federal  army  re- 
commenced its  advance. 


A  Reminiscence  of  the  War.  143 

The  weather  had  been  rainy  ;  after  which  there 
followed  a  close,  oppressive  heat.  I  made  the  forty 
miles  a  little  after  noon  of  the  morning  of  my  de- 
parture ;  caught  the  tug  at  Grand  Gulf  ;  and  leav- 
ing the  landing  at  the  other  side  long  before  day- 
light the  next  day,  I  reached  the  Federal  boats  op- 
posite Vicksburg  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
I  made  the  necessary  changes  ;  and,  mounted  upon 
a  fresh  horse,  which  was  supplied  me  by  a  friendly 
quartermaster,  I  commenced  my  return  soon  after 
noon.  The  roads  were  in  excellent  order,  my  beast 
a  superior  animal,  and  I  had  no  fears  as  to  my 
ability  to  regain  Perkins'  plantation  in  time  to  catch 
the  down-boat  in  the  evening. 

As  I  have  said,  the  weather  was  oppressively 
warm.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring,  and 
everything  seemed  weighed  down  by  the  heat,  as  if 
it  were  possessed  of  enormous  gravity.  My  ride  of 
the  day  before  and  of  the  morning  of  my  return, 
was,  considering  the  heat,  of  extraordinary  length. 
I  was  somewhat  fatigued  when  I  started  back  ;  and 
this  feeling  soon  after  was  succeeded  by  one  of  a 
serious  and  most  unpleasant  nature.  I  found  that, 
upon  the  slightest  turning  of  my  head  from  one  side 
to  the  other,  I  would  lose  the  power  to  balance  my- 
self, and  could  only  prevent  myself  from  falling 
from  my  horse  by  instinctively  grasping  the  pom- 
mel of  the  saddle. 

I  had  passed  through  Richmond  when  these  symp- 
toms attacked  me,  and  I  was  too  far  on  my  journey 
to  think  of  returning  to  the  Vicksburg  landing.  An 
oppressive  premonition  seized  me,  and  I  feared  that, 
in  a  little  while,  I  would  become  totally  blind  and 
helpless. 


144  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

The  route  over  which  I  moved  was  that  which 
had  been  taken  by  the  Federal  forces;  but  it  was  en- 
tirely deserted.  The  rear  of  our  army  had  passed; 
and  the  few  houses  which  presented  themselves  at 
long  intervals  were  as  silent  as  graves.  The  cotton- 
gins  were  heaps  of  smouldering  ruins;  and  the  negro 
cabins  and  the  plantation  houses  stood  with  opened 
doors  and  s-hattered  windows.  There  was  nowhere 
a  sign  of  life,  save  here  and  there  a  broken-down 
mule,  and  an  alligator  sunning  itself  upon  some  log- 
in the  bayous.  The  paunches  and  horned-skulls  of 
beeves,  the  skins  and  entrails  of  swine,  broken 
cracker-boxes,  dead  camp-fires,  innumerable  foot- 
paths, and  deep  ruts  cut  by  the  loaded  wagons, 
marked  the  route  of  the  passing  army.  But  all  life 
had  disappeared  with  it.  There  was  not  even  the 
defiant  bark  of  the  usually  omnipresent  dogs  of  the 
negroes.  No  cattle  lowed  from  the  ricks;  no  horses 
or  mules  cropped  the  springing  grass.  Everywhere 
were  only  desolation,  solitude,  destruction.  Dead 
mules,  bloated  enormously,  and  with  legs  thrust  out 
rigidly  outward,  appeared  at  intervals.  Intolerable 
stenches  from  decaying  animal  matter  poisoned  the 
air,  and  loaded  each  breath  with  a  deadly  nausea. 
There  was  nothing  beautiful,  save  the  clear  sun- 
light, and  the  long  hedges  decorated  with  an  infinite 
variety  of  gorgeous  flowers. 

As  may  easily  be  understood,  the  absence  of  all 
life,  the  constant  presence  of  death,  the  decay,  the 
ruin  and  desolation,  the  sickening  odors,  all  coii- 
sipired  to  add  strength  to  the  illness  which  possessed 
me.  The  death  about  me  constantly  suggested 
death  ;  and  the  odors  of  rottenness  the  decay  which 
seemed  destined  to  make  me  its  prey.  I  grew  worse 
each  instant.  The  air  seemed  to  come  from  a  blast 


A  Reminiscence  of  the  War.  145 

furnace, — a  combination  of  parching  heat  and  nause- 
ating stench.  My  tendency  to  fall  from  my  horse 
became  each  moment  greater,  and  my  eyes  were 
filled  with  millions  of  black,  elongated  specks,  which 
impeded  my  vision,  and  which,  increasing  constantly 
in  size,  promised  soon  to  become  an  unbroken  veil 
of  darkness.  I  felt  that  I  was  rapidly  becoming 
blind;  and  my  mind,  fast  losing  coherence,  reasoned 
scarcely  at  all,  but  instead,  became  the  abode  of 
numberless  dire  apprehensions.  I  had,  however, 
sense  enough  to  know  that  my  safety,  if  existing 
anywhere,  lay  in  advance.  I  therefore  clung  ten- 
aciously to  the  mane  of  my  horse,  and  spurred  des- 
perately forward.  Racking  pains  run  along  my 
spine,  an  immense  weight  seemed  to  lie  upon  my 
brain. 

It  was  some  hours  after  I  left  Richmond;  and  the 
bayou,  whose  course  I  was  following,  and  its  levees, 
seemed  interminable.  I  was  fast  verging  upon  a 
state  of  complete  unconsciousness,  when  I  saw  dimly 
a  house,  at  whose  front  was  a  score  of  horses.  A 
few  orderlies  in  blue  moved  among  them,  and  some 
cavalrymen  were  warming  coffee  over  a  fire  kindled 
among  the  shrubbery.  On  the  long  piazza,  which 
ran  around  the  house,  was  seated  a  group  of  Federal 
officers.  My  horse,  of  its  own  accord,  turned  in 
through  a  gap  in  the  hedge,  and,  coming  up  to  the 
portico,  stopped.  My  head  swam  for  an  instant,  as 
if  whirled  by  machinery,  and  then  I  fell  forward 
insensible. 

My  next  recollection  is,  that  I  was  seated  on  my 
horse  and  moving  forward.  Upon  each  side  of  me 
rode  an  orderly,  by  whom  I  was  sustained  in  my 
saddle.  From  behind  came  the  clanking  of  sabres, 
as  if  from  an  escort.  In  front  of  me  rode  three  or 


146  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

four  officers,  one  of  whom  I  recognized,  by  his  star, 
to  be  a  general.  I  noticed  that  he  was  slightly  built, 
with  light  hair,  and  a  smooth,  boyish  face.  I  had 
an  opportunity  to  observe  these  particulars,  for  the 
reason  that,  at  short  intervals,  he  turned  towards  me 
with  a  compassionate  air,  as  if  to  satisfy  himself  of 
my  condition.  Once  or  twice  he  addressed  me;  but 
I  was  so  dizzy,  confused  and  pained  that  I  evidently 
could  not  answer  him  satisfactorily. 

For  what  seemed  an  age,  this  slow  journey  con- 
tinued. After  a  while  we  crossed  the  bayou  to  our 
left,  and,  after  a  long  time  spent  in  floundering 
through  some  low  grounds  across  which  the  road 
led,  we  came  into  a  clearing,  and  just  before  us  ran 
the  broad,  sluggish  Mississippi.  I  had  a  dim  con- 
sciousness, from  the  charred  ruins  of  what  had  once 
been  a  house,  and  from  other  features,  that  we  were 
at  Perkins'  plantation. 

Some  blankets  were  spread  under  a  tree,  and  I  was 
assisted  from  my  horse  and  laid  upon  them.  The 
officer  with  the  star  on  his  shoulder  seated  himself 
in  a  camp  chair  close  by  me,  and  found  time,  when 
not  giving  directions  about  encamping,  to  inquire  as 
to  my  condition,  my  name  and  destination.  The 
first  of  these  required  no  answer.  As  to  the  others, 
I  could  tell  nothing,  except  to  give  utterance  to 
incoherent  utterings.  My  thoughts  possessed  some 
little  clearness,  but  my  tongue  refused  to-interpret 
them. 

Soon  after,  a  small,  white  tent  was  raised  near  me. 
I  was  offered  some  coffee;  but  the  mere  oder  nause- 
ated me,  and  it  was  taken  away;  and  then  I  was 
supported  into  the  tent.  In  one  end  was  a  cot,  upon 
which  were  blankets,  and  clean,  white  sheets.  I  was 
assisted  to  undress,  and  placed  in  the  bed;  and,  in  a 


A  Reminiscence  of  the  War.  147 

little  while,  between  slumber  and  illness,  I  sank  into 
unconsciousness. 

The  quiet,  the  rest,  with  perhaps  the  fact  that  my 
attack  had  culminated  and  spent  its  force,  restored 
me.  I  awoke  at  dawn  without  a  particle  of  the  feel- 
ing which  possessed  me  the  day  before.  It  required 
some  time  to  recall  my  wandering  thoughts  so  as  to 
take  in  the  seemingly  interminable  events  of  the  pre- 
vious day,  and  to  explain  the  unwonted  comforts  of 
my  position  and  surroundings.  Slowly  I  gathered 
up  the  raveled,  broken,  knotted  threads  of  remem- 
brance; and  then,  hastily  dressing,  I  went  into  the 
open  air. 

There  was  just  sufficient  light  to  render  objects 
indistinctly  visible.  All  over  the  clearing  were  camp- 
fires,  some  of  which  yet  flickered  feebly,  while  others 
were  smouldering  beds  of  white  ashes.  All  around 
these  fires  lay  soldiers  in  their  blankets,  and  near 
them  were  long  lines  of  stacked  muskets.  Close  by 
the  tent  was  a  score  or  more  of  horses,  some  lying 
down,  and  some  standing  with  drooping  heads,  as 
if  asleep.  Near  them  lay  saddles  and  blankets,  and 
among  them,  here  and  there,  were  sabres  whose 
steel  scabbards  reflected  a  gleam  from  some  adja- 
cent camp-fire.  Directly  in  front  of  the  tent,  and 
beneath  a  group  of  trees,  slumbered  four  or  five 
men,  whose  uniforms,  revealed  from  beneath  their 
blankets,  showed  them  to  be  officers.  With  his 
head  pillowed  upon  his  saddle,  I  recognized  the  ten- 
der, compassionate,  boyish  face  of  my  conductor  of 
the  day  before.  His  countenance  lay  upturned,  and, 
while  its  predominant  expression  was  that  of  se- 
renity, there  yet  seemed  to  rest  upon  it  a  shadow,  as 
if  of  a  coming  fate. 


148  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

I  have  but  little  more  to  relate.  A  half  an  hour 
after,  a  bugle  near  the  tent  sounded  revelle,  and  the 
sleeping  hosts  awoke  to  life  and  activity.  Soon  af- 
ter, and  not  till  then,  did  I  know  to  whom  I  was  in- 
debted for  what  I  must  always  believe  to  be  a  care 
which  preserved  my  life,  nor  did  he  know  who  was  the 
suffering  civilian  whom  he  had  found  alone,  friend- 
less, and  almost  dying.  The  former  was  General  T. 
E.  G.  Ransom.  He  had  cared  for  me  without  know- 
ing anything  save  that  I  was  suffering  and  needed 
assistance.  He  had  delayed  his  march  to  accommo- 
date my  weakness;  and  he  had  given  up  his  own 
bed,  and  slept  on  the  ground,  without  shelter,  that 
he  might  administer  to  the  comfort  of  an  unknown 
sufferer. 

I  never  met  that  boyish  face  and  slight  form 
again  in  life.  Once  after,  I  joined  a  cortege  which 
moved  to  a  cemetery  of  the  Garden  City;  and  the 
wailing  dirges  of  the  band  were  but  a  faint  reflex  of 
the  sorrow  that  filled  my  soul  at  the  thought  that 
the  most  gallant,  tender,  chivalrous  soul  of  the  age 
had  taken  forever  its  leave  of  earth. 


A  DESPARADO  WHO  WOULD   NOT 
STAY  KILLED. 


the  early  part  of  1862,  there  was  a  jolly  and 
eager  crowd  gathered  in  room  45,  St.  Char- 
les Hotel,  Cairo,  Illinois.  All,  or  nearly  all, 
of  them  were  Bohemians,  who  represented  the 
majority  of  the  newspapers  of  prominence  in  the 
North.  There  were  the  sedate  and  puritanical- 
looking  Richardson,  of  the  New  York  Tribune;  the 
foppish  exquisite,  Carroll,  of  the  Louisville  Journal; 
the  grave-visaged  Matteson,  of  the  Chicago  Post;  the 
precise  and  somewhat  elegant  Whitlaw  Reid,  of  the 
Cincinnati  Gazette;  the  acidulated  and  undersized 
"Mack, "of  the  Cincinnati  Commercial;  the  bluff 
and  rotund  Bodman,  of  the  Chicago  Tribune;  the 
saintly-looking  Nathan  Shepherd,  of  the  New  York 
World;  the  jaundiced,  but  gentlemanly  Coffin,  of 
the  Boston.  Journal;  the  tall  and  slender  Lovie,  of 
Frank  Leslie;  Meissner,  of  the  Chicago  Times; 
"  Gal  way,"  of  the  New  York  Times;  Simplot,  of 
Harper's;  and  some  others  whose  names  do  not  oc- 
cur to  me. 

Whenever  a  newspaper  man  registered  at  the  St. 
Charles,  he  was  assigned  to  45,  regardless  of  the 
number  already  there.  As  there  was  but  two  beds 
in  the  room  ;  and  as  the  beds,  by  the  utmost  stretch, 
would  never  accommodate  more  than  three  respect- 
ively ;  and  as  there  were  always  from  ten  to  twenty 


150  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

in  the  room, — it  ever  happened  that  there  was  a 
margin  of  Bohemians  who  slept  on  the  tables,  or 
sought  tho  comforts  of  such  slumber  as  could  be 
wooed  from  a  bed  of  flooring  and  a  pillow  construct- 
ed of  a  carpet-bag,  or  the  hollow  of  a  saddle.  But 
it  was  all  right.  He  who  slept  on  the  floor  the  last 
night  would  retire  early  the  next  night,  taking  the 
middle  of  whichever  bed  was  vacant ;  for  among  the 
rules  of  the  fraternity  was  one  that  all  things  except 
tooth-brushes  were  in  common,  and  he  who  first 
gained  possession  of  anything  held  it,  for  the  time, 
by  an  inalienable  right. 

1 1  recall  these  things,  not  because  they  are  precisely 
pertinent  to  what  I  am  about  to  relate,  but  because 
one  who  dates  any  occurrencefrom  Room  45  can  not 
resist  going  over  the  whole  ground.  All  about  the 
room  has  a  more  or  less  intimate  relation  with  the 
history  of  the  rebellion,  and  is  full  of  personal  inter- 
est, whether  oiie  recalls  the  immaculate  E^id,  dilat- 
ing upon  his  intimacy  with  the  family  of  one  who 
has  since  risen  to  the  highest  judicial  honors  in  the 
gift  of  the  Republic  ;  or  Richardson,  gravely  ex-- 
pounding  Buckle's  History  of  Civilization ;  or 
Meissner,  .going  to  bed  at  midday  with  his  boots  on  ; 
or  Carroll,  arraying  himself,  at  two  o'  clock  in  the 
morning,  in  faultless  linen,  and  stimulating  him- 
self with  a  cup  of  hot  tea,  in  order  to  write  a  letter ; 
or  little  "  Mack,"  swearing  like  a  seven-foot  pirate. 

There  was  another  character  there, — a  slender, 
wiry,  handsome,  fresh-cheeked  young  man,  known 
as  Carson.  He  was  from  Chicago,  was  a  scout  in 
the  service  of  Grant,  and  a  correspondent  of  a  news- 
paper. He  was  one  of  the  finest-looking  and  brav- 
est young  fellows  that  I  ever  knew. 


A  Desperado  who  would  not  stay  Killed.     151 

When  news  was  scarce,  the  Bohemians  would 
sometimes  accompany  Carson  on  his  scouting  expe- 
ditions. At  first  he  had  no  trouble  about  volunteers; 
but  later  there  grew  apace  an  unwillingness  to  scout 
with  the  young  dare-devil,  as  it  was  found  that 
scouting,  under  his  lead,  meant  hard  riding,  hard 
knocks,  and  no  account  of  odds  in  numbers.  Hence, 
the  eagerness  to  escape  the  tedium  of  no  war  news, 
finally  resulted  in  recreations  at  billiards,  economical 
draw-poker,  and  universal  growling. 

One  afternoon  Carson  burst  into  the  room  with 
a  haste  that  promised  something  of  unusual  import- 
ance. 

"Now,  boys,"  said  he,  in  a  cheery  voice,  "  who's 
in  for  a  little  fun?" 

"Fun,  h — 11!"  growled  the  little  gentleman  from 
Cincinnati,  as  he  rubbed  carefully  that  portion  of  the 
human  frame  which  usually  conies  in  contact  with 
the  saddle.  "  I've  had  enough  of  your  d — d  fun  to 
last  me  till  after  Lent!" 

Carson  proceeded  to  buckle  on  his  sabre,  to 
sling  a  carbine  over  his  shoulder,  and  to  examine  the 
caps  of  his  navy  revolver.  "Come,  boys,  it's  only 
a  little  scout  over  into  Missouri, — a  short  ride,  not 
much  danger,  and  plenty  of  fun.  Come,  now, 
who'll  go?" 

"  Not  any  for  me!" 

"  I've  had  a  piece  of  that!" 

"  I'll  see  you  about  it  in  the  fall!" 

"  Go  to  thunder  with  your  plenty  of  fun!" 

"  One  charge  of  buckshot  in  my  blanket  now!" 

Such  were  the  remarks  that  greeted  Carson's  invi- 
tation, with  a  score  of  others  that  I  have  forgotten. 
The  only  one  who  said  nothing  was  myself.  I  had 
but  lately  reached  Cairo,  and  having  never  been  out 


152  Army  and  Other  SJcetcJies. 

with  him,  I  had  a  strong  desire  to  go.  Accordingly, 
I  announced  my  intention.  It  was  greeted  with  a 
roar  of  laughter  and  ironical  sympathy  and  con- 
gratulation. 

"Bully  youth!" 

"  Good-bye,  old  fellow!  Where  do  you  want  your 
remains  sent?" 

"Don't  get  ahead  of  Carson  in  a  charge,  will 
you?" 

And  so  on.  Nevertheless,  I  persisted  in  my  deter- 
mination, and,  an  hour  later,  we  had  been  ferried 
over  to  Bird's  Point,  had  passed  through  Dick 
Oglesby's  command,  and  were  hurrying  on  our  way, 
at  a  gallop,  through  the  mud  and  water  of  an  ex- 
ecrable road  that  led  through  the  timber  across 
the  Mississippi  "  bottom."  Besides  Carson  and  my- 
self, there  were  two  soldiers.  All  of  us  were  well 
mounted,  and,  save  myself,  all  were  armed  with 
sabre,  revolver,  and  carbine.  The  mud  soon  grew 
so  deep  that  a  gallop  became  impossible.  We  there- 
fore fell  into  a  walk,  and  it  was  now,  for  the  first 
time,  that  I  was  put  in  possession  of  the  object  of 
the  expedition.  I  will  give  the  substance  of  what 
Carson  told  me,  using  my  own,  instead  of  his  vigor- 
ous language. 

The  vast,  swampy  region  opposite  Cairo,  in  Mis- 
souri, was  occupied  by  Jeff  Thompson.  He  was  no- 
where when  sought  for,  and  everywhere  when  not 
wanted.  He  committed  no  great  amount  of  dam- 
age, save  that  he  kept  Cairo,  the  base  of  our  future 
operations  down  the  Mississippi  and  up  the  Cumber- 
land and  Tennessee  rivers,  infested  with  spies,  who 
accurately  informed  the  rebel  commanders  at  Colum- 
bus, and  in  eastern  Kentucky,  of  Grant's  probable 
intentions. 


A  Desperado  ivho  would  not  stay  Killed.     153 

On  that  morning  a  noted  bushwhacker,  whose 
person  and  habits  were  well  known  in  Cairo,  had 
been  seen  near  Grant's  headquarters.  A  search  had 
been  made  for  him,  but  he  had  suddenly  disappeared. 
Some  information  of  his  haunts  had  been  communi- 
cated to  Grant,  and  Carson  had  been  started  across 
the  river,  with  the  hope  that  he  might  be  intercepted 
at  a  certain  point,  a  settlement  some  twelve  miles 
from  Bird's  Point. 

As  I  was  further  informed,  this  man  was  a  noted 
desperado,  and  was  the  hero  of  a  hundred  personal 
fights,  in  which  he  was  generally  the  victor.  He 
had  killed  a  half-dozen  men  outright,  and  had 
maimed  and  mortally  injured  many  others,  until 
he  had  become  the  terror  of  the  region  which  he  in- 
habited. Several  attempts  had  been  made  to  kill 
him,  but,  in  nearly  every  case,  with  a  disatrous  re- 
sult to  those  attempting  it.  He  seemed  to  bear  a 
charmed  life.  He  had  been  "  cut  to  pieces"  in  a 
half-dozen  fights,  and  yet,  in  a  week  or  two,  he  was 
around  again,  as  well,  as  quarrelsome,  and  as  dang- 
erous a's  ever. 

It  was  related  that  a  man  whom  he  had  a  quarrel 
with,  had  waylaid  him  one  night,  and  had  discharg- 
ed a  heavy  load  of  buckshot  into  him.  The  assassin 
fled  as  he  saw  his  opponent  fall  heavily  from  his 
horse.  His  horror  may  be  imagined  when,  the  next 
time  he  ventured  into  town  and  into  the  village  gro- 
cery, he  found  his  enemy  at  the  bar,  and  taking  a 
drink  with  the  gusto  of  a  man  uninjured  by  buck- 
shot or  bullets.  At  another  time,  he  was  found 
dead  drunk  upon  an  immense  hollow  log,  a  short 
distance  into  the  country.  The  opportunity  was  too 
good  to  be  lost,-  and  so  a  fire  was  kindled  in  the  log, 
just  beneath  him,  and  he  was  left  to  his  fate.  He 


154  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

lay  there  and  broiled  until,  as  was  asserted,  one 
whole  side  of  him  "  was  burnt  to  a  cinder  ;"  and 
yet,  a  few  weeks  afterwards,  he  was  around,  appa- 
rently as  hearty  as  ever. 

These  and  a  dozen  similar  incidents  were  related 
by  Carson,  and  the  effect  was  very  far  from  mak- 
ing me  pleased  with  the  prospect.  Nevertheless,  it 
was  too  late  to  retreat,  and  I  kept  on  hoping  the 
best,  yet  fearing  the  worst. 

The  settlement  which  we  were  approaching,  was 
the  one  in  which  resided  this  desperado.  It  was 
supposed  that  he  had  gone  home  to  spend  the  night, 
and  that  we  should  find  him  there  at  any  time  be- 
fore daylight  the  next  morning,  when  he  would 
probably  leave  for  the  headquarters  of  Thompson. 

By  Carson's  orders,  we  made  a  wide  detour,  and 
thereby  avoided  the  little  town  where  our  prey  was 
waiting.  Carson  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  country  ;  and  so  well  did  he  conduct  us  that, 
without  meeting  a  human  being,  or  passing  a  house, 
we  reached,  about  nine  o'clock,  a  road  that  led  into 
the  town,  and  which  road  was  exactly  opposite  the 
one  by  which  we  had  left  Bird's  Point.  In  other 
words,  the  town  was  between  us  and  Cairo,  and  we 
were  upon  the  road  that  led  from  the  town  to  the 
point  supposed  to  be  occupied  by  Jeff.  Thompson. 
Our  man  would  approach  along  this  road,  and  hence 
we  were  sure  of  meeting  him,  if  the  supposition 
were  correct  that  he  would  spend  the  night  with  his 
family. 

We  moved  up  to  within  a  mile  of  the  settlement, 
and  then  halted  at  a  deserted  log-house.  The  horses 
were  hitched  behind  the  building,  without  having 
their  bridles  or  saddles  taken  off;  and  every  disposi- 
tion was  made  for  instant  movement.  We  took 


A  Desperado  who  would  not  stay  Killed.     155 

turns  in  watching  the  road,  while  the  ones  not  on 
duty  wrapped  themselves  in  blankets  and  slept. 

Daylight  came  without  there  having  occurred  any 
thing  of  note.  We  waited  until  sunrise,  and  then 
mounted  and  moved  toward  the  town.  Carson 
swore  savagely  under  the  impression  that  our  man 
had  taken  some  other  route. 

The  road  led  up  a  gentle  ascent  to  a  broad  table- 
land, upon  which  the  little  settlement  was  located. 
We  proceeded  at  a  walk  until  we  reached  the  brow- 
of  the  ascent,  and  the  place  became  visible. 

It  was  a  collection  of  a  dozen  or  so  rough  houses, 
built  around  a  square.  Three  horses  were  hitched 
in  front  of  a  small  building.  The  moment  Carson 
caught  sight  of  the  animals,  he  exclaimed: 

"  There's  his  horse,  by  G— !" 

At  the  same  instant,  he  drove  his  spurs  into  his 
beast,  and  shot  forward  like  an  arrow.  Just  then, 
three  men  issued  from  the  building,  and,  attracted 
by  the  clatter  of  hoofs,  they  turned  towards  us,  and 
then,  with  incredible  quickness,  they  threw  the  reins 
over  their  horses'  necks,  and  leaped  into  the  saddles. 
One  of  them  swerved  to  the  left,  another  to  the  right, 
and  the  third  went  like  the  wind  on  the  road  to 
Cairo. 

Carson  seemed  to  only  see  this  man,  and  followed 
directly  after  him.  I  followed  Carson. 

I  happened  to  be  well-mounted,  and  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  within  sight  of  the  chase.  The  ani- 
mal ridden  by  the  man  whom  we  were  pursuing  was 
a  splendid  beast;  but  its  muddy  appearance  and 
rough  coat  indicated  a  long  journey.  However, 
both  Carson  and  myself  gained  on  the  rider,  slowly, 
but  perceptibly. 


156  Army  and  Oilier  Sketches. 

The  road  ran  across  a  table-land,  and  then  de- 
scended gently  for  a  long  distance,  till  it  reached  the 
muddy  "bottom." 

We  had  not  descended  more  than  half  the  road  to 
the  bottom,  when  Carson  had  gained  upon  the  pur- 
sued until  he  was  within  thirty  paces.  At  this  in- 
stant he  called  in  a  resolute  voice: 

"Halt!" 

For  a  reply,  the  man  wheeled  in  his  saddle,  and 
fired  a  shot  from  a  revolver.  I  heard  the  whiz  of 
of  the  bullet  as  it  went  over  my  head. 

The  next  moment,  I  saw  a  puff  of  smoke  from 
Carson's  pistol.  There  was  a  sharp  report,  and, 
at  the  same  instant,  I  saw  the  butternut  coat  of 
the  pursued  give  a  sudden  flap  in  the  centre  of 
his  back,  accompanied  by  the  rise  of  a  little  cloud  of 
dust. 

But  the  bushwacker  rode  on.  Carson  was  closing 
with  him  rapidly,  and  I  was  some  ten  or  fifteen 
paces  in  the  rear  of  the  latter. 

I  saw  Carson  return  his  revolver  to  his  belt,  and 
draw  his  sabre.  His  horse's  head  now  lapped  the 
flanks  of  the  other.  He  brought  his  sabre  to  a 
charge. 

"  Halt !  will  you?"  he  thundered. 

The  man  rode  on.  In  an  instant  Carson  drove  his 
sabre  forward.  It  entered  somewhere  near  the 
•  right  shoulder-blade,  and  passed  completely  through 
the  body.  The  next  moment,  the  man  reeled  wildly, 
and  then,  with  a  vain  effort  to  grasp  the  mane  of 
his  horse,  he  tumbled  heavily  to  the  ground. 

A  minute  later,  we  had  checked  our  horses,  and 
had  reined  up  beside  the  fallen  man.  He  lay  on  his 
face ;  blood  reddened  his  lips  ;  his  eyes  rolled  fear- 


A  Desperado  who  ivould  not  stay  Killed.     157 

fully  ;  and  he  gasped  as  if  throttled  by  a  strong 
hand. 

"  It's  all  up  with  him  this  time,"  said  Carson,  as 
he  dismounted.  "  However,  I'll  make  sure,  and  put 
him  out  of  his  misery."  He  pulled  out  his  revolver, 
and,  holding  it  a  couple  of  inches  away  from,  and 
directly  over,  the  prostrate  man's  heart,  he  fired. 
There  was  a  quick  convulsion  of  the  frame,  and  the 
bearded,  fierce-looking  spy,  with  his  long,  unkempt 
hair,  lay  motionless. 

Carson  searched  the  body,  and  found  a  paper  con- 
cealed in  the  lining  of  his  slouch-hat.  Upon  it  was 
some  highly  important  information  concerning  our 
forces,  and  contemplated  movements. 

Leaving  the  still  rebel  where  he  had  fallen,  we 
continued  our  route  to  Cairo,  knowing  that  the  body 
would  be  attended  to  by  friends  who  would  follow 
to  learn  the  result  of  the  pursuit. 


About  five  weeks  later,  I  was  at  the  landing  when 
the  ferry-boat  came  over  from  Bird's  Point.  Some 
butternut  'suits  attracted  my  attention,  and,  upon 
looking  closer,  I  saw  a  squad  of  a  half-dozen  bush- 
whackers, who  were  marched  ashore,  under  guard 
of  some  Federal  soldiers.  I  looked  curiously  at 
them  as  they  passed.  One  of  them  was  a  burly,  un- 
couth-looking ruffian.  His  face  was  deadly  pale, 
and  his  eyes  bloodshot ;  but,  despite  this,  I  recog- 
nized in  an  instant,  in  the  peculiar  countenance,  the 
bushy  beard,  and  long  hair,  the  desperado  whom 
Carson  had  sabred,  and  twice  shot  through  the 
body.  He  appeared  but  little  the  worse  for  his  treat- 
ment ;  and,  so  far  as  I  know,  he  is  yet  alive,  and  as 
impervious  as  ever  to  steel,  fire  or  revolver. 


158 


Army  and  Other  Sketches. 


I  have  only  to  add  that  this  account  is  substan- 
tially a  true  one,  as  may  be  proved  by  scores  who 
were  in  Cairo  in  1862. 


AMONG  THE  GUERRILLAS. 


HERE  were  a  good  many  very  respectable 
men  who  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  late 
war.  Among  them  were  some —  in  fact,  no 
small  number — who  demonstrated  their  inter- 
est not  by  shouldering  a  musket,  or  buckling 
on  a  sabre,  but  by  gathering  up  such  articles  of 
value  as  were  scattered  in  the  crash  of  things,  and 
the  universal  spilling,  overflowing,  and  confusion 
that  prevailed  wherever  there  were  any  operations. 
Among  these  there  was  a  class  who  may  be  termed 
gleaners.  They  followed  in  the  track  of  the  oppos- 
ing forces,  and  carefully  raked  up  any  little  thing 
which  might  prove  to  be  of  value.  Those  gentle- 
men who  charged  themselves  with  the  pleasing  task 
of  gathering  up  abandoned  plantations,  were  among 
those  gleaners.  Some  of  them  got  rich  by  it.  A 
good  many  of  them  did  not. 

Messrs.  John  Marsh,  and  George  McLeland  re- 
solved some  time  during  the  closing  years  of  the 
war,  to  go  into  the  gleaning  business.  Both  were 
and  are  Illinoisans.  The  former  is  fat  and  a  little 
lame.  The  other  is  immensely  thin  and  a  good  deal 
deaf.  Both  were  rich,  but  both  wanted  more. 
Thereupon  each  of  them  had  their  respective  checks 
cashed  for  a  few  thousand  dollars.  Putting  a  clean 
shirt  apiece  in  their  carpet-sacks,  they  bade  adieu 


160  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

to    their    weeping    families    and    embarked    on    a 
steamer  at  Rock  Island,  and  started  southward. 

Of  the  tremendous  perils  which  these  two  glean- 
ers experienced  in  getting  to  Helena,  it  would  be 
harrowing  to  speak  in  detail.  The  number  of  times 
they  weren't  shot  at  by  prowling  bushwhackers,  se- 
creted behind  wood-piles,  on  the  levees,  was  beyond 
computation.  Probably  several  hundred  would  be  a 
very  low  estimate. 

Both  laid  low,  and  were  prepared  for  vigorous 
dodging  in  case  of  an  attack.  McLeland  usually 
occupied  a  horizontal  position,  with  his  head  point- 
ing to  one  shore,  and  his  feet  to  the  other,  under  the 
belief  that  he  thus  presented  the  smallest  possible 
mark  for  a  rebel  rifleman.  Mr.  John  Marsh,  who 
was  about  as  thick  when  lying  as  when  standing, 
was  unpleasantly  situated.  He  proposed  to  his  com- 
panions that  he  (Marsh)  ought  to  have  two-thirds  of 
the  profits,  as  he,  owing  to  his  size,  ran  two-thirds  of 
the  danger. 

To  which  McLeland,  being  stingy  as  well  as  thin, 
declined  to  accede.  And  thereupon  arose  a  slight 
coolness  between  the  whilom  friends. 

Beautiful  Helena  was  at  length  reached,  and  soon 
after,  a  corpulent  traveler,  with  a  carpet-sack  and  a 
slight  limp,  and  an  enormously  tall  man  with  a  car- 
pet-sack and  a  sole-leather  countenance,  might  have 
been  seen  ascending  the  romantic  levee  in  search  of 
quarters. 

A  week  later,  the  same  two  individuals  were  in- 
stalled as  lessees  of  a  thriving,  productive,  and  ad- 
mirably situated  plantation. 

And  now  began  the  business.  Contrabands  by  the 
score  were  obtained  from  the  depot,  in  the  propor- 
tion of  three  obese  negresses,  eleven  children,  clad 


Among  the  Guerillas.  161 

at  the  rate  of  one  shirt  to  the  dozen,  five  dogs,  and 
one  lame  mule,  to  each  able-bodied  negro.  Thus, 
the  getting  together  say  twenty  able-bodied  Africans 
involved  the  assembling  of  almost  a  thousand  other 
things,  including  old  negroes  and  pickaninies, 
feather-beds  and  dodger  kettles,  and  other  traps 
and  paraphernalia  without  limit,  and  sufficient  to 
start  a  good-sized  city. 

Messrs.  Marsh  and  McLeland  being  philanthropic, 
were  kindly  disposed  to  all  these  arrivals.  They 
opened  primary  schools,  in  which  the  young  nig- 
gers were  taught  not  to  chew  tobacco,  and  en- 
couraged to  stand  on  their  heads,  or  to  execute  a 
break-down. 

All  the  old  aunties  of  the  settlement  came  in  for 
much  good  instruction  from  these  kindly  old  men. 
They  were  put  under  a  gentle  course  of  instruction, 
whose  main  feature  was  their  duty  to  get  back  to 
Helena  by  the  first  conveyance,  in  order  not  to  pro- 
duce a  scarcity  in  the  provender  of  bacon  and  meal 
laid  in  by  Messrs.  Marsh  and  McLeland.  With  the 
delightful  tractability  of  the  docile  African,  the 
good  old  aunties  heard  and  concluded  to — stay, 
which  they  did. 

And  thus  things  went  on  under  the  new  rule.  The 
crop  was  put  in.  Save  an  occasional  accident,  in 
which  the  bulky  Marsh  sat  down  on  a  young  darkey, 
to  the  great  discomfort  of  the  latter,  or  the  lengthy 
McLeland  broke  his  head  in  trying  to  get  into  a 
negro  shanty,  the  world  went  well  with  them.  The 
cotton  came  in  green  beauty,  and  already  had  the 
gleaners  figured  up  the  number  of  bales,  the  profits 
thereon,  and  the  pecuniary  results,  which  were  divi- 
ded in  imagination. 


162  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

But  a  crisis  was  approaching  these  two  good  men 
with  the  swift  noiselessness  of  a  prowling  tiger. 

Their  plantations  were  outside  the  lines.  With 
infinite  difficulty  had  each  of  them  broken  himself 
to  riding  a  mule.  McLeland  had  the  best  luck  in 
the  operation.  His  length  of  legs  enabled  him  to 
stand  over  a  mule  as  the  Colossus  of  Rhodes  bestrode 
the  passing  ships.  When  he  wished  to  ride  he 
widened  his  lower  extremities  and  the  mule  was 
backed  under  by  a  nigger  ;  then  he  lowered  himself 
a  trifle,  drew  up  his  knees  to  his  chin,  and  was 
mounted.  When  the  mule  was  refractory  and  be- 
gan to  plunge,  then  the  rider  simply  lowered  his 
feet  till  they  touched  the  ground.  And  then  the 
mule  walked  off. 

Mr.  John  Marsh  had  more  difficulty.  No  small 
mule  could  carry  him,  and  no  large  mule  would 
carry  him.  Thereupon  he  was  reduced  to  an  ancient 
animal  which  was  too  stiff  to  rear,  and  too  old  to 
kick.  Him  he  mounted,  after  many  attempts.  In 
time,  by  holding  tight  to  the  mane,  he  could  retain 
his  position.  Experience  made  him  bold,  and  he 
finally  became  a  most  daring  rider.  If  the  mule  did 
not  lower  his  head  and  stop  suddenly,  he  would  ride 
from  Helena  to  the  plantation  without  once  falling 
off. 

One  gentle  afternoon  the  two  companions  mount- 
ed their  prancing  steeds  and  started  for  the  planta- 
tion. They  passed  the  pickets  at  a  tremendous  rate., 
and  entered  the  open  country. 

Each  had  in  his  belt  some  thousands  of  dollars  in 
greenbacks. 

They  were  armed  to  the  teeth.  McLeland  had  a 
formidable  jack-knife,  while  about  the  waist  of 
Marsh  was  buckled  a  revolver,  three  inches  in  length^ 


Among  the  Guerillas.  163 

and  which  had  been  loaded  only  some  two  years  pre- 
vious. Thus  armed,  what  cared  they  for  the  fact 
that  a  force  of  guerrillas  had  been  seen,  the  day  be- 
fore, but  a  few  miles  away?  Marsh  wouldn't  have 
given  a  cent  over  a  thousand  dollars  to  have  been 
safe  in  his  Illinois  home.  McLeland  wouldn't  have 
raised  the  amount  over  100  per  cent,  to  have  been  in 
the  same  place. 

And  thus  darkly  musing,  they  rode  valorously  on, 
keeping  a  vigilant  out-look  over  their  shoulders. 

And  now  the  crisis  was  upon  them. 

It  took  the  shape  of  a  squad  of  butternuts  who 
suddenly  reined  up  before  them  and  menaced  them 
with  huge  horse-pistols  and  colossal  shot-guns. 

McLeland  saw  them,  lowered  his  feet  to  the 
ground,  backed  from  off  his  mule,  and  prepared  for 
instantaneous  fight.  Marsh  tried  to  get  off  his  mule 
in  order  to  flee  into  Hepsidam,  or  anywhere  else, 
but  there  being  no  nigger  handy,  he  was  unable  to 
dismount  without  assistance.  A  butternut  planted 
himself  before  McLeland,  and  cut  off  his  retreat. 

They  were. penned  ! 

"  Hand  over !"  came  in  stern  accents  from  the  ruf- 
fianly leader. 

After  much  searching  in  various  pockets,  Marsh 
found  a  plug  of  tobacco,  which  he  sorrowfully  passed 
to  the  brigand.  Then  he  sought  long  and  earnestly, 
and  fished  out  a  pocket-comb.  "  Take  it,"  said  he, 
in  a  sad  tone,  "  'tis  all  I  have.  I  am  now  a  broken, 
ruined  old  man  !" 

'You  be  d — d  !"  roared  the  ruffian.     "Come,  out 
with  yer  stamps  !" 

Again  did  the  sorrowing  Marsh  investigate  his 
clothes.  Infinite  search  produced  a  shirt-button,  a 
dirty  collar,  and  a  hymn-book.  "  There,  unfeeling 


164  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

wretch,  is  me  all  !  Take  them,  and  let  me  go  away 
and  die  !" 

"  Look  here,  old  hoss,  if  you  don't  shell  out  some 
greenbacks,  I'll " 

Just  then  there  was  heard  the  clank  of  sabres  and 
the  clatter  of  horses'  feet. 

"  Yanks,  by  G —  !  Skedaddle,  boys;"  and  so  say- 
ing the  butternuts  drove  the  spurs  into  their  horses, 
and,  in  a  twinkling,  had  disappeared  in  the  timber. 

"What's  the  matter?"  inquired  McLeland,  whose 
deaf  ears  had  not  taken  in  a  word  of  the  conversa- 
tion. 

Robbers,"  was  the  reply  roared  into  his  organ  of 
hearing. 

"Robbers!  Oh  Lord!  Robbers!"  and  just  then  he 
caught  sight  of  an  approaching  dust,  in  which  could 
be  seen  the  outlines  of  horses  and  riders.  "  Rob- 
bers," he  roared;  "there  they  come  again!  Oh 
dear !"  He  looked  wildly  about  for  a  refuge.  A 
little  way  off  he  saw  a  shanty  about  which  were 
grouped  some  Africans.  Hope  awoke  in  his  breast. 
Fiercely  he  tugged  at  his  clothing.  He  tore  open 
his  vest,  he  unbuckled  his  money  belt,  he  flew  to  the 
negroes,  and  throwing  them  the  belt,  he  said : 

"Men  and  brethren,  keep  this  for  me  till  the  rob- 
bers pass."  They  seized  upon  it  and  said,  "Thanks, 
masser." 

And  then  he  strode  backhand  awaited  with  calm 
resignation  the  approach  of  the  robbers.  They  came 
up. 

They  were  a  company  of  Federal  scouts  in  search 
fcof  guerrillas.  Their  leader  was  the  friend  of  Mr. 
Marsh  and  Mr.  McLeland.  They  were  rejoiced  to 
see  him.  They  told  him  their  heart-rending  adven- 
ture, 


Among  the  Guerrillas.  165 

And  then  the  Federals  pushed  on  the  trail  of  the 
guerrillas.  And  then  Mr.  McLeland  went  and 
claimed  his  money  belt  from  the  faithful  Africans. 

The  faithful  Africans  were  not  where  he  left 
them. 

Nor  at  any  other  place  which  he  has  been  able  to 
discover  from  that  day  to  the  present  time. 

A  broken-hearted  old  man,  named  McLeland,  or 
something  like  it,  now  passes  a  sad  existence  at  the 
lovely  village  of  Geneseo,  in  this  State. 

He  has  a  mournful  experience  to  relate  of  cotton 
worms,  of  failure  in  cotton  planting,  and  of  the  loss 
of  $10,000  which  he  had  in  a  money-belt. 

Mr.  John  Marsh  has  country  quarters  at  Elgin. 
He  is  still  portly,  a  little  lame,  and  given  to  relating 
the  miraculous  adventures  which  he  once  passed 
through  in  cotton  planting  below  Helena. 


UNCLE   JAMES  AND  THE  BULL. 


AVING  successfully  exhibed  all  the  various 
suits  of  clothing  in  my  family  party,  and 
finding  my  finances  getting 'low,  in  conse- 
quence of  responding  to  the  appeals  for  pecun- 
iary aid  of  the  gentlemanly  landlord  with 
whom  I  resided,  I  concluded  to  hunt  a  cheaper 
locality.  When  one  leaves  Niagara  or  Saratoga, 
after  a  lengthened  sojourn,  his  most  natural  destin- 
ation is  a  poor-house. 

But  it  was  not  in  search  of  a  poor-house  that  I 
came  hitherward.  I  am  not  disposed  to  slander 
Vermont  hospitality  with  any  such  remark. 

If  a  man  who  has  been  stopping  a  few  weeks  at 
Niagara  or  Saratoga  can  not  get  admittance  to  a 
poor-house,  "the  next  best  thing  he  can  do  is  to 
"take"  the  bankrupt  act.  A  receipted  hotel-bill 
from  either  of  these  places  will  be  accepted  by  any 
bankrupt-commissioner  as  final  evidence  of  remedi- 
less poverty.  It  ought  to  procure  his  discharge  with- 
out further  difficulty. 

To  get  to  Vermont  from  Saratoga,  one  goes  to 
Whitehall,  and  thence  to  Rutland.  Between  the 
two  places,  the  Vermont  line  is  crossed.  I  knew  we 
had  crossed  it  by  the  coming  on  the  train  of  a 
stranger  who  sat  down  by  me,  and  commenced  an 
acquaintance  by  inquiring  where  I  was  going,  how 
long  I  was  going  to  stay,  where  I  came  from,  what 


Uncle  James  and  the  Bull.  107 

the  price  of  butter  was  when  I  left,  and.  whether  I 
knew  Deacon  Doggett,  who  lived  out  in  Illinois. 

From  Rutland  to  Burlington,  one  passes  a  few 
handsome  villages  and  some  rocks.  There  is  a  great 
variety  of  the  latter.  They  are  piled  up  to  immense 
heights.  A  little  timber  is  scattered  over  them,  and 
some  grass  grows  here  and  there  among  the  crevices. 
Here  these  crevices  are  fenced  in,  and  are  called 
pastures.  All  the  cattle  that  pasture  on  these  crevi- 
ces are  rigged  out  with  brakes,  without  which  they 
could  not  get  down  the  hills. 

My  present  stopping  place  is  at  the  foot  of  the 
Green  Mountains,  a  few  miles  east  of  Burlington. 
The  country  is  primitive,  and  there  are  some  rocks 
here.  The  inhabitants  are  distinguished  for  longev- 
ity, hospitality,  radicalism,  asthma,  the  use  of  pat- 
ent medicines,  and  for  being  pervaded  with  an  in- 
sane idea  that  this  portion  of  Vermont  is  the  loca- 
tion of  the  original  Eden. 

A  man  of  note  in  this  vicinity  has  from  50  to  100 
cows,  600  acres  of  land,  a  span  of  No.  1  horses,  two 
fancy  sheep,  and  a  sugar-orchard.  A  man  who  has 
all  these  may  run  for  the  Assembly  if  he  pleases,  or 
be  a  deacon  in  the  Church. 

Real  estate  hereabouts  is  mostly  rocks  set  up  on 
edge,  with  grassy  crevices  for  the  cows.  A  Ver- 
mont cow  understands  herself.  She  can  climb  rocks 
like  a  squirrel,  and  she  gets  fat  and  gives  twelve 
quarts  of  milk  from  feed  that  is  not  visible  to  any 
thing  less  than  a  microscope  of  forty  diameters. 

Uncle  James,  with  whom  I  am  stopping,  has  a 
bull  and  the  phthisic.  Yesterday  the  bull  got  in  the 
orchard,  and  Uncle  James,  accompanied  by  his 
phthisic  and  a  big  gad,  went  down  to  drive  the 
bull  out. 


168  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

Now,  what  I  am  about  to  demonstrate  is,  that,  in 
a  race,  it  depends  a  good  deal  upon  who  is  ahead. 

I  sat  at  the  window  and  timed  the  little  dash.  At 
the  send-off,  the  bull  led  Uncle  James  and  the  gad 
about  two  lengths.  Up  to  the  first  quarter,  the  gait 
was  moderate.  Uncle  James  steadily  gained  on  the 
bull,  until,  at  the  first  quarter,  the  gad  just  lapped 
the  bull  from  head  to  tail. 

At  this  precise  point,  they  disappeared  behind  the 
rise  of  ground,  the  bull  just  neck  and  neck  with  the 
gadj  Uncle  James  one  length  behind  the  bull. 

The  second  and  third  quarters  of  the  track  were 
hidden  behind  the  rise  of  ground.  The  fourth  quar- 
ter, or  home-stretch,  was  plainly  visible  from  where 
I  sat;  and  I  awaited  their  appearance  with  thrilling 
anxiety. 

In  about  five  minutes,  they  rounded  the  turn  and 
emerged  on  the  home-stretch.  Uncle  James  was 
ahead.  The  bull  was  about  eighteen  inches  behind, 
and  gaining.  The  gad  was  nowhere  visible. 

The  gait  was  terriffic.     Uncle  James  had  his  head 

.  over  one  shoulder.     The  bull  had  his  head  close  to 

the  ground.     Uncle  James'  gait  was  a  mixture  of 

trot,  lope,  and  stumble.      The  bull  was  on  a  clean 

gallop,  with  his  tail  as  straight  up  as  a  liberty  pole. 

It  was  a  beautiful  burst  of  speed.  Nothing  like  it 
was  ever  seen.  They  neared  the  come-out  at  a  three- 
minute  gait.  It  was  almost  a  dead  heat.  As  Uncle 
James  went  over  the  wire — a  stone  wall — the  bull's 
horns  were  neatly  interwoven  with  his  coat-tails. 
Uncle  James  won  by  a  bare  length,  which  he  meas- 
ured on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.  In  comparing 
the  merits  of  the  two,  I  should  state  that,  while  the 
bull  has  the  most  wind,  Uncle  James  has  the  most 
bottom. 


Uncle  James  and  the  Bull.  160 

SUMMARY.— Race  around  the  orchard;  single-dash, — best  one  in 
two: 
Uncle  James,        -.-......-1 

Bull,  2 

Gad, Distanced 

First  quarter, 3%  minutes 

Second  and  third  quarters,  ------       Unknown 

Fourth  quarter, 1  mm.  28  sec. 

You  see  we  have  our  little  amusements  here  as 
well  as  you  do  in  Chicago. 

The  other  day  a  party  of  us  went  up  on  Mansfield 
mountain.  This  mountain  is  a  swelling  in  the  Green 
Mountains,  and  is  a  place  of  fashionable  resort  from 
Boston.  Almost  every  young  lady  whom  I  saw  up 
in  the  mountain  wore  spectacles,  and  quoted  Emer- 
son when  she  was  about  to  ask  a  servant  for  some 
more  beans. 

To  go  up  Mansfield  mountain,  you  take  a  vehi- 
cle as  far  as  you  can,  and  then  ride  a  horse  the  re- 
mainder of  the  way.  The  vehicular  part  of  the  route 
is  pleasant,  especially  if  you  have  good  company. 
Good  company  as  I  understand  it,  means  somebody 
of  the  opposite  sex. 

The  horse  part  of  the  journey  is  not  so  pleasant. 
An  equestrian  riding  up  the  outside  of  the  walls  of 
the  court-house  in  Chicago,  would  be  somewhat  like 
riding  a  horse  up  Mansfield  mountain — only  less  so. 
Of  the  two,  the  mountain  is  the  steeper,  and  the  as- 
cent more  dangerous  and  difficult. 

A  man  who  rides  up,  and  doesn't  anathematize 
himself  for  being  a  jackass  for  undertaking  the  trip, 
has  no  proper  appreciation  of  himself  or  his  sur- 
roundings. 

After  what  seems  a  couple  of  weeks  or  so,  one  gets 
to  the  top.  Then,  if  one  has  an  overcoat  and  a  fur 
collar,  the  affair  becomes  pleasant.  Seated  by  a 


170  Army  and  Other  Sketches, 

good  fire,  in  the  cozy  hotel  at  the  summit,  with  a 
good  cigar  and  a  bottle  of  ale,  one  can  enjoy  him- 
self as  well  as  though  he  were  at  home. 

If  one  admires  them,  he  can  go  out,  stand  in  the 
wind,  and  catch  cold  and  views  of  the  surrounding 
country.  The  view  one  gets  is  fine,  but  imperfect 
owing  to  the  fact  that  Chicago  is  not  visible. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  Boston  company  at  the 
hotel.  The  ladies  wore  spectacles  and  thick  shoes, 
and  spent  their  time,  when  in-doors,  in  disputing 
over  woman's  mission,  and,  when  out-doors,  in  chip- 
ping the  rocks  for  geological  specimens.  Sometimes 
they  varied  these  occupations  by  grim  metaphysical 
flirtations  with  attendant  gentlemen. 

Coming  down  the  mountain  is  the  same  as  going 
up,  except  that  you  see  a  bottomless  abyss  over  your 
horse's  head,  whereas  in  going  up  you  saw  it  over 
his  tail.  A  fall  either  way  would  amount  to  the 
same  thing  in  the  end. 

People  who  live  at  a  distance,  and  can  not  go  up 
Mansfield  mountain,  can  experience  the  same  sensa- 
tion by  riding  a  horse  along  a  narrow  gutter  on  a 
six-story  hcJuse.  There  is  no  more  danger  in  the 
effort,  and  it  is  less  expensive. 

Vermont  is  a  fine  state  in  the  way  of  rocks,  cheese 
factories,  pretty  girls,  and  antique  old  gentlemen  of 
ninety.  One  house  where  I  visited  had  four  gen- 
erations living  in  it.  Some  other  houses  have  five. 
As  near  as  I  can  learn,  they  don't  die  in  this  vicinity. 
When  a  man  gets  to  be  a  hundred  or  so,  they  bury 
him  alive. 

The  productions  of  the  state  are  various.  Blooded 
sheep,  costing  originally  $2  per  head,  are  sold  often 
for  $2,500.  The  maple-sugar  here  is  different  from 
what  we  get  in  Chicago.  So  are  the  milk,  and  the 


Uncle  James  and  the  Bull.  171 

butter,  and  the  cheese.  Making  cheese  is  a  staple 
business.  There  is  usually  a  cheese-factory  at  every 
four  corners,  with  a  pretty  woman  or  two  slopping 
around  in  the  whey. 

Occasionally  one  sees  some  rocks.  Upon  these 
rocks  there  are  some  more  rocks,  and  some  others 
upon  them.  Upon  the  whole  of  them,  there  are, 
usually,  some  rocks.  Sometimes  one  finds  upon  the 
top  of  all  this  pile  some  more  rocks. 

They  have  a  breed  of  animals  here  known  as 
kaows.  The  kaow  has  horns  and  a  tail,  and  gives 
milk  without  water  in  it.  The  kaow  is  a  very  useful 
animal. 

Almost  all  the  old  people  hereabouts  have  a  sec- 
ond growth  of  hair  and  a  third  set  of  teeth.  They 
are  experimenting  upon  two  or  three  specimens,  to 
see  how  long  they  will  live.  Two  of  them  are  yet 
hale  and  active,  but  they  are  so  old  that  every  body 
has  forgotten  how  old  they  are.  One  of  them  lost  a 
beloved  grandchild  of  101,  who  went  West  on  a 
pleasure  trip,  and  got  snapped  up  by  a  western  fever. 

There  are  a  good  many  other  things  that  I  would 
like  to  describe.  None  of  the  girls  chew  gum.  They 
give  a  man  more  at  a  meal  here  than  one  gets  in  a 
week  at  a  first-class  hotel  any  where  else.  A  square 
meal  here  includes  warm  biscuits,  cold  bread,  pork 
and  beans,  butter,  cheese,  four  kinds  of  sauce,  three 
kinds  of  cake,  "  punkin  "  pie,  apple  pie,  "punkin" 
pie,  grape  pie,  "pimkin"  pie,  and  "punkin"  pie. 
Their  "  punkin  "  pie  beats  the  world.  Besides  these 
articles,  there  are  half  a  dozen  others,  all  equally 
good. 


SOME  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  ALLA- 
TOONA. 

HE  battle  of  Allatoona  has  never  been 
written  up  as  it  deserves.  The  few  histo- 
rians who  have  arisen  since  the  close  of  the 
war  have  dished  it  in  a  paragraph,  in  which 
were  contained  a  few  statistics  as  to  forces, 
the  length  and  result  of  the  battle,  and  a  com- 
pliment to  the  endurance  and  pluck  of  the  Fed- 
eral commander.  And  yet,  this  battle  of  Allatoona, 
considered  with  reference  to  the  numbers  engaged, 
its  duration,  and  the  interest  involved,  was  one  of 
the  most — if  not  the  most — desperate,  bloody,  and 
gallant  conflicts  of  the  whole  war. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  write  an  extended  account 
of  the  battle;  it  is  merely  proposed,  in  the  present 
article,  to  embody  a  few  salient  recollections  of  some 
of  the  men  and  the  incidents  of  that  terrific  fight. 

The  soul,  the  inspiration,  of  Allatoona,  was  Gen- 
eral Corse.  On  that  occasion,  he  shot  upward  to  an 
altitude  which,  for  many  generations,  will  permit 
his  being  a  conspicuous  figure  among  the  heroes  of 
the  war. 

When  I  first  became  acquainted  with  Corse,  there 
was  little  or  nothing  in  his  appearance,  position,  or 
surroundings,  to  indicate  that  he  would  attain  dis- 
tinction. He  was  a  major  of  the  6th  Iowa,  of  which 
regiment  John  A.  McDowell,  brother  of  General 


Some  Recollections  of  Allatoona.  173 

McDowell,  was  colonel.  The  regiment  was  some- 
where in  central  Missouri,  engaged  in  guarding 
some  insignificant  bridge.  There  was  no  glory  in 
present  duties,  and  no  brighter  outlook  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  future. 

Corse  struck  me  then  as  being  dissatisfied.  Lately 
defeated  as  a  candidate  for  a  prominent  political 
position  in  Iowa,  he  had  gone  into  the  field  to  relieve 
the  pain  of  defeat.  And  now,  guarding  a  railway 
bridge,  and  subject  to  the  dilatory  policy  and  ineffi- 
ciency of  Fremont,  there  seemed  little  prospect  of 
bettering  his  fortunes. 

Chafing,  and  discontented,  he  was  driven  back 
upon  himself.  The  result  was  a  species  of  religious 
outbreak.  Corse,  McDowell,  and  other  officers, 
formed  themselves  into  a  sort  of  Calvinistic  organi- 
zation. The  chaplain  prayed  night  and  morning. 
McDowell  prayed  at  the  table.  If  Corse  did  not 
pray  in  public,  he  possibly  did  in  secret. 

I  remained  with  the  regiment  a  while,  but,  finally, 
tired  of  its.  forced  inaction,  and  not  suited  with  the 
a,usterity  that  took  possession  of  every  face,  and  in- 
disposed to  listen  to  McDowell's  homilies  on  temper- 
ance and  morality,  I  left. 

The  next  time  I  saw  Corse  was  a  week  or  two 
later,  at  Jefferson  City.  A  steady  diet  of  prayer, 
preaching,  and  Puritanical  observances  had  been 
too  much  for  him.  He  was  going  home  on  sick 
leave.  I  accompanied  him  to  St.  Louis,  and  thence 
up  the  railway  that  led  to  Burlington.  His  trouble 
seemed  as  much  mental  as  physical.  He  suffered 
intense  pain,  and  was  so  worn  out  and  racked  that, 
when  I  parted  with  him  at  Galesburg,  I  thought  it 
scarcely  probable  that  he  would  live  to  reach  home. 


174  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

And  yet  the  slight  figure  possessed  more  vitality 
than  I  supposed.  When  I  next  saw  him,  it  was  in 
April  of  the  following  year,  1SG-2.  He  had  then  been 
assigned  to  staff  duty,  and  was  inspector  general,  I 
believe,  with  Pope,  a  little  above  Pittsburg  Landing. 
He  had  lost  his  austerity,  was  bright,  active,  and 
elastic.  He  had  secured  something  to  do,  and  his 
vast  ambition  was  gratified  with  the  prospect  of  a 
promotion. 

From  this  period  until  the  taking  of  Vicksburg,  I 
saw  him  at  intervals.  He  became  attached  to  Sher- 
man, and  being  intrusted  with  some  independent 
military  operations  connected  with  the  disposition  of 
Johnston,  in  the  rear  of  Vicksburg,  he  so  acquitted 
himself  that  Sherman  recommended  him  for  promo- 
tion, and  he  was  made  a  brigadier-general. 

When  Hood  marched  around  Sherman's  flank,  at 
Atlanta,  he  meant  mischief.  He  threw  himself  at 
once  upon  the  latter's  communications,  and  cut  the 
railroad  between  Kenesaw  and  Allatoona.  At  the 
latter  place  were  a  million  rations.  To  have  de- 
stroyed these  would  have  annihilated  Sherman. 
From  station  to  station,  was  signaled  the  news  of 
Hood's  movement,  and  Corse,  who  was  at  Rome, 
was  ordered  to  Allatoona  with  all  his  disposable 
force.  Cars  were  broken  and  unavailable,  so  that 
he  was  able  to  embark  but  700  men.  With  these, 
and  a  plentiful  supply  of  ammunition,  he  threw 
himself  into  Allatoona.  And  then  the  Confederate 
forces  closed  in  upon  him  from  every  side.  With 
less  than  1,500  men,  he  occupied  an  insecure  position, 
attacked  by  ten  times  his  own  number,  and  know- 
ing that  upon  his  efforts  depended  the  safety  of 
Sherman's  whole  army,  and  the  entire  value  of  the 
campaign  from  Chattanooga  to  Atlanta, 


Some  Recollections  of  Allatoona.  175 

Every  thing  conspired  to  his  isolation.  The  ab- 
sence of  cars  from  Rome  prevented  his  bringing  up 
but  a  portion  of  his  division.  After  his  arrival,  he 
attempted  to  signal  to  Sherman,  who  was  on  Kene- 
saw,  twenty  miles  distant,  his  strength.  He  ordered 
the  message  :  "  Corse  is  here  with  a  portion  of 
his  brigade,  and  must  have  reinforcements,"  to 
be  sent.  The  flagman  had  gotten  as  far  as:  "Corse 
is  here  with — ,"  when  a  rebel  shell  cut  his  flagstaff 
in  pieces,  and  then  he  ingloriously  fled.  Sherman 
interpreted  this  as  meaning,  "  Corse  is  here  with 
his  division."  Therefore,  he  regarded  the  situation 
of  Allatoona  as  comparatively  safe,  although  he 
pushed  forward  Cox  to  menace  Hood,  and  to  assist 
in  the  defence. 

It  was  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  that  the  Con- 
federates commenced  their  attack.  There  was  a 
cessation  a  little  after  daylight,  for  the  sending  in  of 
a  demand  for  a  surrender,  whose  tenor  and  whose 
gallant  reply  have  become  historical.  And  then  the 
battle  was  renewed.  Allatoona  was  a  small  island, 
against  which  dashed  overwhelming  and  angry 
tides.  In  a  little  time,  the  heavy,  surging  columns 
of  grey,  had  gradually  driven  in  the  advanced  and 
slender  forces  of  Corse,  until  there  remained  to  him 
only  a  small  work,  near  the  summit,  which  com- 
manded the  supplies,  and  against  which  the  mad- 
dened enemy  now  bent  all  his  energies  to  capture. 

The  little  earth-work,  with  its  outlying  ditch,  be- 
came a  red-hot  volcano,  and  a  slaughter-pen.  It 
commanded  the  approaches  of  an  assaulting  party, 
and  it  was  commanded  by  Confederate  artillery.  It 
was  red  with  the  flashes  of  its  guns,  and  the  blood 
of  its  defenders.  It  rained  death  like  some  vast  and 
infernal  engine ;  and  it  was  a.  huge  furnace  which 


176  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

roasted  to  cinders  its  contents.  It  was  deadly  alike 
to  friend  and  enemy. 

Extending  southwest  of  this  fort  was  a  ridge,  from 
which  projected  numerous  wooden  spurs.  Forming 
behind  these  spurs,  the  columns  of  the  Confederate 
Young  would  deploy  on  the  ridge,  and  hurl  them- 
selves against  the  defences.  It  was  the  most  acces- 
ible,  and  yet  the  most  defensible,  position. 

On  the  north  and  east  sides  of  the  fort  the  precip- 
itous, broken  country  rendered  an  assault  in  great 
force  impossible.  Hence,  the  key  of  the  position 
was  the  point  of  the  works  facing  the  ridge  on  the 
southwest.  At  this  point  were  the  main  assaults ; 
and  here  were  exerted  the  most  strenuous  efforts  of 
the  defenders. 

A  short  distance  in  front  of  the  fort,  and  across 
the  brow  of  this  ridge,  was  a  ditch,  waist-deep,  per- 
haps. Into  this  ditch  were  thrown  as  many  men  as 
could  be  spared  without  weakening  the  other  posi- 
tions. 

From  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  save  the  half 
hour  or  so  occupied  in  delivering  and  returning  the 
demand  for  a  surrender,  the  enemy  deluged  the 
heights  with  shot  and  shell.  When  the  smoke  lifted 
during  the  advance  ot  the  flag  of  truce,  the  grey  col- 
umns could  be  seen  at  every  point  of  the  compass, 
moving  into  position,  and  closing  up  their  cordon 
about  the  hill. 

If  the  sparse  few  who  saw  these  hosts,  grew  dis- 
couraged, and  concluded  that  defense  was  useless, 
they  were  scarcely  to  be  blamed.  They  were  out- 
numbered, ten  to  one,  and  many  believed  that  a  re- 
sistance would  only  provoke  exasperation,  and  re- 
sult in  a  massacre. 


Some  Recollections  of  Allatoona.  177 

The  commander  had  therefore,  to  struggle  not 
only  against  numerical  superiority,  but  against  a 
feeling  of  discouragement,  that  took  possession  of 
many  of  the  men.  As  noon  approached,  and  the  at- 
tacks of  the  Confederates  had  reduced  the  Federal 
force  to  less  than  a  single  regiment,  the  discourage- 
ment of  his  men  changed  into  despair,  and  Corse 
found  the  position  beset  by  new  difficulties.  He 
feared  that  there  might  be  soldiers  who  would  regard 
surrender  as  a  righteous  alternative  to  a  continued 
defense,  which  promised  no  more  than  speedy  cap- 
ture and  massacre  by  the  men  whom  the  tenacity  of 
the  defence  had  driven  to  madness.  To  guard 
against  any  such  attempt  as  to  run  up  a  white  flag, 
he  made  himself  omnipresent.  He  encouraged  with 
electric  words  those  who  clung  to  their  positions;  he 
drove  laggards  into  the  ditches  with  savage  impre- 
cations; and  he  menaced  with  a  cocked  revolver 
any  one  who  ventured  to  hint  that  further  resistance 
was  useless.  He  moved  ceaselessly  from  point  to 
point,  and  was  the  genius  who  ruled  the  whirlwind 
that  raged  around  the  crests  of  Allatoona. 

In  a  little  ditch  facing  the  ridge  to  the  southwest, 
lay  a  portion  of  the  39th  Iowa  infantry,  under  com- 
mand of  Lieutenant-Colonel  James  Redfield.  He 
was  a  good  man  to  whom  to  intrust  the  key  of  the 
fortress.  He  had  long  courted  a  fight.  He  was 
anxious  for  distinction,  and  had  often  requested  an 
opportunity  to  display  his  merits.  He  was  gratified 
at  Allatoona.  He  was  given  the  post  of  danger  and 
of  honor.  And  gallantly  did  this  other  son  of  the 
Hawkeye  State  perform  his  task.  Scorning  the  pro- 
tection of  the  ditch,  he  placed  himself  on  the  rise  of 
ground  behind  it,  whence  he  could  overlook  his 
men.  It  was  in  full  view  of  the  assaulting  forces, 


178  Army  and  Other  Sketches. ' 

and  he  became  the  target  of  a  thousand  muzzles. 
He  moved  about  in  the  iron  tempest,  and  amidst 
the  scorching  flashes  of  shell  and  gun,  like  an  in- 
carnation of  invulnerability  and  command.  When 
the  serried  masses  of  grey  came  up  the  crest,  he  was, 
a  grand  central  figure  in  the  background.  His 
waving  sword,  fierce  oaths,  and  blazing  eye  rallied 
the  energies  of  his  men,  and  stimulated  them  to 
fresh  exertions.  His  leg  was  broken,  so  that  it  dragged 
like  some  foreign  body,  and  yet  he  refused  to  leave. 
They  brought  him  a  chair,  and  he  planted  himself 
squarely  in  his  old  position.  Bullet  after  bullet 
struck  him,  but  he  never  left  his  post.  His  words 
of  cheer  grew  fainter,  his  oaths  less  forcible,  his 
command  less  imperative.  When  the  smoke  from 
one  of  the  terrible  assaults  rolled  up,  he  was  dead. 

A  new  danger  now  menaced  the  Federal  com- 
mander. The  muskets  of  his  men  began  to  burst  at 
the  muzzle,  and  there  was  danger  that,  in  a  little 
time,  further  defence  would  become  impossible.  In 
this  emergency,  he  gathered  all  the  wounded  who 
were  able  to  lift  a  gun,  and,  selecting  those  rifles 
which  had  burst,  he  placed  them  in  the  hands  of  the 
wounded,  with  the  bayonets  pointing  outward. 
Here  was  an  abattis  of  steel,  feeble,  it  is  true,  but 
one  which  enabled  him  to  utilize  every  element  of 
strength  in  the  command. 

About  noon  a  bullet  ploughed  along  Corse's  tem- 
ple, and  stretched  him  senseless.  Had  it  passed  the 
hundredth  part  of  an  inch  more  to  the  left,  it  would 
have  ended  the  attack  on  Allatoona.  But  even  while 
senseless,  the  indomitable  spirit  still  controlled  the 
prostrate  body.  An  order,  "  Cease  firing,"  awoke 
him  to  sufficient  consciousness  to  fear  that  surrender 
was  intended,  and  to  fiercely  countermand  it. 


Some  Recollections  of  Allatoona.  179 

A  little  later,  with  head  swathed  in  bandages,  cov- 
ered with  blood,  bare-headed,  and  blackened  with 
powder,  he  was  moving  among  the  feeble  remnants 
of  his  force,  cursing,  commanding,  imploring  a  re- 
sistance to  death. 

The  men  fought  doggedly  and  despairingly  on. 
There  was  not  a  man  of  them  that  expected  any 
thing  but  death.  The  ditches  became  filled  with 
dead,  whose  pale  faces,  rigid  features,  and  ghastly 
wounds  tended  to  fill  the  souls  of  the  survivors  with 
fresh  despair.  The  Confederates  charged  up  to  the 
very  brink  of  the  rifle-pits,  and  their  dead,  as  well 
as  those  of  the  Federals,  began  to  choke  the  slender 
excavation,  and  make  its  occupation  a  matter  of 
more  and  more  difficulty. 

Seeing  that  the  defenders  of  the  southwest  ridge 
were  becoming  weakened  to  an  extent  that  would 
certainly  prevent  the  repulse  of  another  assault  in 
force,  Corse  made  preparations  to  assist  them.  A 
gun  was  dragged  to  an  embrasure  of  the  fort  that 
commanded  the  ridge.  The  dead  of  the  fort  clogged 
his  progress,  and  Corse  removed  them  back,  and 
piled  them  like  a  heap  of  cordwood,  to  make  room 
for  his  single  gun.  Then  the  powder  was  cut 
loose  from  some  fixed  ammunition,  and  poured  into 
the  piece.  A  blanket  was  torn  into  square  strips  and 
wrapped  around  a  quantity  of  minie  balls.  This 
improvised  grape-shot  was  rammed  home,  and  the 
gun  sighted  down  the  crest.  With  hand  on  lan- 
yard, a  sergeant  named  Croxton,  who  was  badly 
wounded,  knelt  beside  the  piece  awaiting  the  criti- 
cal moment. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock,  when  solid  masses  of 
grey  once  more  came  from  behind  a  protecting  spur 
of  the  ridge,  and  formed  across  it.  In  a  moment 


180  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

they  were  in  order,  and  then,  with  shrill  yells,  they 
started  toward  the  fort.  It  was  the  turning  moment 
of  the  day.  They  were  coming  in  force,  and  with  a 
momentum  that  would  have  carried  them  over  the 
slender  obstructions  of  the  ditch,  and  up  to  and  into 
the  fort. 

It  was  just  at  this  instant  that  the  gun  prepared 
by  Corse,  was  discharged.  Its  deadly  contents  tore 
through  the  deep  ranks  like  wind  through  chaff. 
They  melted  before  the  hot  blast,  and  disappeared. 

It  was  the  last  assault.     The  day  was  won. 

In  this  battle  Corse  lost  over  fifty  per  cent,  of  his 
forces.  Nearly  one-half  were  killed  outright,  and 
but  few  remained  unwounded.  He  killed,  wounded, 
and  captured  more  of  the  enemy  than  he  had  men 
in  his  own  command. 

For  these  reasons  do  I  think  the  battle  of  Allatoona 
the  most  bloody,  desperate,  and  gallant  of  the 
whole  war. 


THE    REVELATIONS   OF   A    WINDOW. 

OR  three  or  four  years  I  lived  in  a  certain 
part  of  a  certain  city,  whose  name  or  loca- 
tion is  unimportant  to  the  purpose  of  this 
sketch.  It  does  not  matter  to  the  philosophic 
observer  where  a  thing  occurred.  He  knows 
that  human  nature  is  so  alike  in  its  phenom- 
ena, that  something  which  takes  place  among 
the  Kamtschatkans  is  subject  to  the  same  laws  and 
deductions  that  is  a  similar  affair  developed  among 
the  citizens  of  Chicago. 

My  place  of  business  lay  in  one  part  of  the  city, 
and  my  residence  at  another;  and  so  far  apart  were 
they  that,  in  going  from  one  to  the  other,  I  usually 
availed  myself  of  a  regular  public  conveyance. 
Owing  to  my  confinement  in  the  office,  I  invariably, 
when  the  weather  permitted,  rode  outside.  In  this 
way,  I  always  had  plenty  of  fresh  air,  and  an  oppor- 
tunity to  engage  in  my  favorite  pursuit  of  studying 
faces. 

At  a  certain  part  of  the  route,  over  which  I  passed 
every  day,  stood  a  two-story  house.  It  was  a  struct- 
ure of  moderate  pretensions,  with  blinds,  and  a  pi- 
azza, which,  in  summer,  was  clambered  over  by 
luxurious  vines.  There  were  two  windows  below, 
and  three  above.  Of  these  three  in  the  second  story, 
one  was,  I  suspect,  a  ".blind,"  for,  during  my  three 
years'  observation  of  the  house,  I  never  saw  the 


182  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

shutters  of  this  particular  window  unclosed.  There, 
then,  remained  four  windows — two  above  and  two 
below;  and  it  is  to  what  I  saw  in,  about  and  through 
these  windows  that  I  wish  to  invite  the  attention 
and  judgment  of  the  reader. 

The  piazza,  was  roofed  over  just  above  the  first 
floor  windows.  In  the  summer  time  this  piazza,  to- 
wards evening,  became  a  pleasant  place  in  which  to 
sit.  The  leafy  vine  shut  out  the  heat,  and  the  too 
curious  observation  of  the  public;  and  there  were 
apertures  between  its  branches,  through  which  one, 
in  passing,  could  obtain  glimpses  of  those  who  might 
be  sitting  outside,  or  of  the  comfortable  and  well- 
furnished  parlor  within,  when  the  shutters  were 
open  and  the  inside  curtain  not  drawn  down. 

My  observation  of  this  house  began  one  spring, 
soon  after  a  new  family  had  moved  into  it.  What 
particularly  attracted  my  attention  was  the  fact 
that,  among  other  members  of  a  family,  which  in- 
cluded a  deformed  brother  and  an  old  lady  who  ap- 
peared to  be  the  mother,  were  two  young  women, 
whose  ages  might  have  been  respectively  between 
eighteen  and  twenty-two  years.  Neither  was  re- 
markable for  either  beauty  or  plainness.  They  were 
both  tall,  slender;  with  rather  fine  eyes,  regular 
features,  and  very  heavy  masses  of  dark,  wavy 
hair.  Of  course  these  peculiarities  only  revealed 
themselves  by  degrees.  It  took  some  months  for 
me  to  be  able  to  distinguish  them  apart,  and  to  be- 
come familiar  with  their  features,  form  and  other 
traits. 

Sometimes  I  saw  them  seated  on  the  portico,  when 
I  went  up  in  the  evening;  but  usually  I  saw  them 
seated  at  the  lower  or  upper  windows.  They  were 
not  always  there  when  I  passed,  nor  were  they  al- 


The  Revelations  of  a  Window.  183 

ways  together.  Sometimes  I  would  not  see  either 
for  several  days.  At  times  one  would  be  seated  in 
the  parlor  below,  or  one  or  the  other  would  be  stand- 
ing at  the  window  above.  In  any  case,  I  rarely  ever 
had  a  view  of  them  which  lasted  beyond  a  single 
glance,  or,  at  most,  for  more  than  two  or  three  sec- 
onds. The  vehicle  upon  which  I  rode  always  moved 
rapidly,  and  hence  there  was  but  little  time  allowed 
for  observation  of  any  object  along  our  route. 

The  reader  now  has  before  him  the  book  from 
which  he  is  about  to  read.  This  book  consists  of 
two  young  ladies,  neither  ugly  nor  handsome,  of  me- 
dium intelligence,  and  who,  together  or  singly,  once 
in  two  or  three  days,  were  visible  at  the  window  for 
a  space  which  varied  from  one  to  three  seconds.  It 
is  a  very  small  volume  from  which  to  attempt  to 
read  much;  but  it  will,  perhaps,  be  found  that  there 
is  a  good  deal  more  in  it  than  there  seems  to  be. 
Reading  lives  from  faces  is  a  species  of  short-hand 
process.  It  is  full  of  delicate  characters,  each  one 
of  which  expresses  frequently  a  word,  and  often  a 
whole  sentence. 

The  first  thing  that  attracted  my  attention  was, 
that  neither  of  the  two  young  women  appeared  at 
the  windows  except  when  she  was,  so  to  speak,  in 
full  costume.  They  were  never  visible  in  the  morn- 
ing. Then  the  shutters  were  all  closed.  In  the 
afternoon  some  of  the  lower  shutters  were  usually 
open  ;  and,  seated  in  full  view  of  the  street,  was 
one  or  the  other,  or  sometimes  both.  At  such  times, 
their  toilets  were  elaborate.  Their  abundant  hair 
was  artistically  arranged,  and  their  position  such  as 
to  show  to  the  best  advantage  both  hair  and  dress. 

There  was  something  in  the  careful  toilette  and 
studied  carelessness  of  their  positions,  which  led  to 


184  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

the  conclusion  that  they  had  arranged  them  to  at- 
attract  attention.  That  they  were  unmarried,  was 
evident  from  a  hundred  things,  but  chieflly  that  I 
never  detected  them  in  deshabille  or  gloved  for 
household  service.  They  were  evidently  unmarried, 
and  were  waiting  and  watching. 

The  object  for  which  they  thus  waited  and  watched 
was  apparent.  Something  in  their  positions  and 
faces  revealed  the  secret.  The  former  was  always 
suggestive  of  what  I  may  term  "  adhesiveness." 
When  together  they  seemed  to  incline  towards  each 
other  with  a  movement  that  appeared  full  of  affec- 
tion, and  which  seemed  to  suggest  the  want  of  sup- 
port. They  seemed  like  two  vines  which  had  com- 
menced twining  about  each  other,  and  which  by 
the  very  operation  suggested  the  necessity  of  a 
stronger  object  upon  which  to  twine.  In  short,  there 
was  something  in  their  position  with  relation  to  each 
other  which,  while  always  attractive  and  interesting, 
unavoidably  left  the  inference  that  there  was  want- 
ing the  element  of  strength  to  complete  the  group. 
The  void  which  thus  always  appeared  was  one  which 
only  could  be  filled  by  the  strength  of  manhood. 
No  young  man  could  gaze  upon  the  picture  without 
seeing  in  it  something  which  powerfully  suggested 
to  him  that  he  should  become  a  part  of  it. 

There  was  the  same  element  of  strength  lacking 
in  the  positions  assumed  by  either  of  them  when  she 
occupied  the  window  alone.  Of  course,  there  was 
variety  in  her  attitudes;  but  they  all  showed  the 
same  general  character,  and  indicated  the  same  re- 
sult. She  would  sit,  for  instance,  as  if  waiting.  Her 
body  would  be  thrown  forward  ;  her  lips  slightly 
parted,  as  if  to  welcome  the  comer,  her  head  turned 
a  little  to  one  side,  as  if  to  catch  the  first  foot-fall  of 


The  Revelations  of  a  Window.  185 

the  expected  one.  Her  eyes  had,  apparently,  a  lan- 
guid, tender  expression,  as  if  the  one  who  was  com- 
ing were  one  who  would  be  met  with  rapture.  At 
other  times,  her  attitude  assumed  the  despondent. 
Her  bowed  head  would  rest  in  her  hand  ;  her  half- 
closed  eyes  would  gaze  pensively  into  vacuity;  and 
her  whole  expression  would  be  that  of  profound  de- 
jection. 

If  the  one  position  was  suggestive  of  welcoming 
some  one,  the  other  was  equally  suggestive  of  disap- 
pointment at  the  arrival  of  no  one.  The  latter 
seemed  to  possess  an  expression  of  infinite  loneliness, 
Its  inference  was,  that  someone  was  lacking,— 
somebody  was  wanted  to  chase  away  the  loneliness, 
to  afford  the  bowed  head  a  support  other  than  the 
slender  hands,  and  to  win  the  melting  eyes  from  the 
waste  of  tenderness  which  they  were  softly  flashing 
into  vacancy. 

Was  this  nature  or  art?  I  will  not  undertake  to 
say  for  the  present.  Suffice  it,  that  in  all  their  group- 
ings, attitudes  and  expression,  they  suggested  invari- 
ably that  there  was  an  absent  element.  That  element 
.  was  not  that  of  woman.  They  seemed  to  develop 
all  that  was  womanly.  The  missing,  the  completing 
element,  suggested  itself  as  one  of  strength,  of  man- 
hood; of  something  which  was  the  natural  complete- 
ment,  and  yet  the  exact  opposite,  of  the  various 
qualities  which  they  so  constantly  developed. 

It  is  probable  that  every  young  woman  naturally 
expresses  the  same  peculiar  ideas  that  I  gathered 
from  these  groups  in  the  window;  but,  -ordinarily, 
this  is  true  only  to  a  limited  degree.  In  the  case  of 
the  average  of  young  woman,  these  suggestions  are 
often  scarcely  understood  by  others;  they  are  mys- 
terious, tormenting,  uncertain;  but  in  the  case  of  the 


186  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

two  of  whom  I  write,  the  inference  from  their  efforts 
was  as  plain  as  if  written  in  a  book. 

As  I  have  said,  I  have  concluded  that  they  were 
waiting  and  watching.  Deftly  and  patiently  they 
wove  a  shining  web  across  the  sashes.  Now  one 
labored  at  it,  now  the  other,  and  then  both.  Its 
threads  sparkled  in  the  sunlight,  and  were  reflected 
with  a  shimmer  which  was  sometimes  that  of  silver, 
or  again  one  which  was  iridescent  in  the  variety  of 
its  coloring.  It  was  a  parti-colored  and  altogether 
attractive  web.  One  day  a  masculine  fly  fell  into  it; 
and  the  labor  was  rewarded. 

I  knew  the  fly  was  caught,  because  the  labor  at 
the  web  was  discontinued;  and  I  knew  that  nothing 
save  "death  would  turn  a  woman  from  her  course 
when  in  pursuit  of  a  husband.  That  they  were  not 
dead,  I  knew,  for  I  continued  to  see  them  through 
the  window. 

It  was  some  weeks  before  I  caught  sight  of  a  slen- 
der, weak-eyed  youth,  with  a  large  head,  and  whom 
I  knew  to  be  the  fly  that  had  ventured  into  the  Cir- 
cean  web.  But  I  knew  that  he — that  is,  some  he — 
had  become  entangled.  I  discovered  it  through  the 
window  as  easily  as  I  had  understood  the  process 
and  objects  of  weaving  the  web.  I  knew  it  because 
the  labor  of  weaving  was  discontinued.  They  came 
to  the  window  as  often  as  before;  but  the  spirit 
which  inspired  the  old  groupings  had  gone.  They 
now  came  and  sat  down  the  same  as  ordinary  peo- 
ple. Neither  expressed  the  action  of  waiting  or  ex- 
pectation in  the  turn  of  her  head  or  the  poise  of 
her  body.  They  sat  down  carelessly.  They  stared 
through  the  windows  at  the  passers-by  precisely  the 
same  as  they  would  had  the  people  been  so  many 
cattle. 


The  Revelations  of  a  Windoiv.  187 

I  readily  discerned  to  whose  share  the  victim  had 
fallen.  It  was  she  who  suddenly  passed  from  a  con- 
dition of  pensive  watching  into  one  of  common-place 
indifference.  Hitherto  she  had  always  appeared  as 
if  expecting  some  one  from  the  vacuity  into  which 
she  gazed.  All  at  once,  she  was  found  gazing 
straight  into  the  street,  or  looking  at  her  sister,  as 
if  the  question  of  twining  had  become  obsolete.  Her 
hair  lost  its  elaborate  arrangement;  her  dress  was 
now  as  often  calico  as  silk, — as  often  thrown  on 
loosely  as  it  once  had  been  fitted  with  the  nicest 
care. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  victim  was  visible.  I 
first  noticed  him  leaning  disconsolately  against  the 
window,  and  looking  abstractedly  at  nothing.  He 
was  always  alone.  He  never  seemed  to  form  a  part 
of  the  tableau  which  had  once  so  suggestively  invited 
his  presence.  Sometimes  he  was  sitting  in  a  chair, 
and  leaning  very  much  forward.  He  appeared  to 
be  possessed  of  a  sort  of  married  look,  which  ex- 
pressed itself  in  a  sort  of  general  settling  down  of 
his  body  towards  his  boots.  He  seemed  to  be  grad- 
ually passing  from  a  solid  to  a  gelatinous  condition. 
His  abstracted  air,  his  lonely  look,  his  general  ap- 
pearance of  "  settling  down,"  told  the  whole  history 
of  his  experience.  He  had  ventured  in  to  make  the 
third  in  the  picture  in  the  window.  He  had  desired 
to  supply  its  needed  complement.  He  had  offered 
himself  as  the  oak  about  which  the  clinging  vines 
might  twine.  He  had  presented  himself  as  the  ele- 
ment of  strength  which  only  seemed  lacking  in  the 
grouping  behind  the  sashes.  As  a  third,  as  a  com- 
plement, as  an  oak,  as  an  element  of  strength,  he 
was  evidently  a  failure. 


188  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

Some  months  rolled  away,  and,  after  a  while,  the 
abstracted,  lonely  face  disappeared  from  the  window. 
An  interval  occurred,  and  then  there  were  some 
strips  of  crape  hung  on  the  door-knob.  Somebody 
was  evidently  dead ;  but  the  closed  shutters  gave  no 
opportunity  to  discover  who  was  missing. 

A  week  or  so  later,  there  was  another  picture  at 
the  window.  It  was  composed  of  the  same  old  fig- 
ures as  the  one  which  had  been  there  long  before. 
But  this  time,  one  was  robed  in  deepest  black,  and  I 
saw  that  she  was  a  widow. 

My  last  observations  in  that  direction  revealed  that 
the  grouping  at  the  window  was  still  continued. 
-This  time,  it  was  the  same,  only  more  effective  than 
before.  The  frail,  stricken  form  in  black  seemed 
the  very  impersonation  of  weakness.  There  was  a 
suggestion,  in  every  fold  of  the  black  robe,  of  a  lone- 
liness that  needed  companionship  ;  a  weakness  that 
needed  support ;  a  drooping  that  required  the  assist- 
ance of  a  strong  arm.  There  was  the  same  vine 
mutely  appealing  for  something  whereon  to  twine. 
There  was  the  same  picture,  suggesting  the  lack  only 
of  masculine  strength  to  secure  its  perfection. 

And  then  the  two  were  so  admirably  arranged, — 
the  one  to  contrast,  to  serve  as  a  foil  to,  a  suggestion 
for  the  other.  The  supreme  weakness  and  woe 
revealed  in  the  attitude  and  habiliments  of  the  one, 
suggested  the  need  of  a  companionship  more  vigor- 
ous, more  strong,  than  were  afforded  by  the  other. 
Ever  the  expression  of  the  unwidowed  one  appeared 
to  be:  "Come,  strong  arms,  and  aid  me  to  sustain 
this  pitiful  woe  which  now  leans  against  weak  me, 
and  overpowers  my  slender  strength!" 

And  thus  the  glimpses  through  the  window  re- 
vealed themselves;  and  thus  the  glimpses  at  the 


The  Revelations  of  a  Window.  189 

window  may  be  revealing  themselves  at  the  very 
hour  in  which  I  write.  The  deft  web-weavers  may 
be  still  at  their  labors  of  stretching  the  woof  of  their 
enchantment  across  the  sashes.  The  threads  of  the 
web  may  still  shimmer  in  the  sunlight,  —  may  still 
reflect  the  rainbow  in  their  coloring. 

There  are  just  such  windows  all  over  the  world, 
behind  which  are  being  woven  just  such  webs. 
There  are  thousands  of  silly  masculine  flies  which 
will  become  entangled  in  them,  and,  after  a  while, 
will  be  tumbled  out,  the  mere  skin  of  their  former 
selves.  Wherever  there  are  artful  women,  and  weak 
young  men,  there  are  such  groupings,  such  pictures, 
such  suggestions  and  invitations,  and  such  results. 


A  REVELATION  OF  CLAIRVOYANCE, 


HE  writer  hereof  is  a  clairvoyant.  He  can 
see  ahead  of  him,  or  behind  him,  when 
there  is  nothing  to  obstruct  his  vision. 

The  other  day,  after  a  discussion  with  a 
young  woman  on  progress,  social  science,  nurs- 
ing babies,  Anna  Dickinson,  woman's  rights, 
and  a  few  other  matters,  such  as  usually  form  the 
staple  of  chit-chat  between  a  young  woman  and  a 
young  man,  he  fell  into  a  reverie  on  the  vast  progress 
being  made  by  men  and  women.  From  a  reverie  he 
passed  into  a  clairvoyant  condition,  in  which  he 
saw  many  things.  Here  is  what  he  saw: 

It  was  a  century  later  than  the  great  American 
rebellion.  Social  science  had  developed  with  enor- 
mous rapidity.  Vast  changes  had  occurred  every- 
where, but  chiefly  in  the  relations  of  the  sexes.  In 
short,  the  conditions  which  existed  in  the  nineteenth 
century  had  become  exactly  reversed  in  the  case  of 
men  and  women.  The  former  had  stopped  growth  ; 
the  latter  had  progressed.  At  the  exact  moment 
when  the  writer,  a  fair-haired  blond  of  twenty,  ap- 
peared among  these  reverse  social  conditions,  women 
and  men  had  just  exactly  changed  the  positions 
which  they  formerly  occupied. 

Woman  had  progressed  to  the  ballot,  and  had  con- 
tinued on  until  she  had  usurped  the  rights  of  govern- 
ing. As  she  seized  upon  the  right,  she  had  deprived 


A  Revelation  of  Clairvoyance.  191 

man  of  it,  and  had  gradually  forced  him  downward, 
and  repressed  him,  until  he  was  confined  exclusively 
to  the  family.  Man  had  grown  timid  and  modest; 
woman  bold  and  outspoken.  She  occupied  the 
counting-rooms ;  attended  the  saloons ;  ran  the 
billiard-rooms,  edited  the  newspapers,  filled  the 
public  offices,  and  thronged  the  hall  of  the  Chamber 
of  Commerce.  He  attended  the  boarding-schools;  was 
the  domestic  in  the  kitchen;  nursed  and  reared  the 
children;  filled  the  subordinate  departments  in  the 
public  schools;  opened  and  owned  millinery  shops; 
danced  in  the  ballet,  and  in  short,  felt  and  acted  like 
the  women  of  the  century  before. 

It  was  a  pleasant  summer  day  in  July,  1971,  that 
this  story  begins.  The  golden-haired  blond  of 
twenty  who  is  writing  this  article  found  himself  on 
that  particular  day  in  the  city  of  Chicago.  He 
seemed  to  know  that  he  belonged  to  a  previous  age; 
but  yet  he  seemed  to  belong  to  the  period  and  the 
society  of  1971.  He  lived  at  home  with  his  parents. 
His  father  was  a  gentle,  amiable  man,  who  was  pos- 
sessed of  every  quiet  grace  and  accomplishment. 
His  mother  was  likewise  remarkable.  He  was  for- 
tunate in  his  mother.  She  was  a  woman  of  wonder- 
ful vigor  of  body  and  intellect.  She  was  a  lawyer, 
and  a  rising  woman  of  massive  judgment,  prodigi- 
ous energy,  and  untiring  perseverance.  She  com- 
manded universal  respect,  and  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
be  elevated  to  the  bench. 

The  golden-haired  young  hero  of  this  tale  found 
himself  sitting  upon  the  shaded  verandah  of  a  pala- 
tial house  on  an  avenue  on  the  West  Side.  Green 
vines  clambered  over  the  piazza,  and  fluttered  trem- 
ulously, as  touched  by  a  cool  breeze.  Half  con- 
cealed by  these  umbrageous  vines  sat  our  sweet 


192  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

young  hero.  Near  him.  sat  his  gentle  father,  en- 
gaged in  hemming  a  pocket  handkerchief.  Upon 
the  lap  of  the  son  lay  a  book.  Near  him  was  a 
guitar.  Through  the  open  window  was  seen  his 
piano,  and  attached  to  one  of  its  legs  a  gold  medal, 
and  to  another  a  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  It 
was  a  superb  Chickering- Stein  way,  and  had  taken 
two  prizes  at  the  World's  Fair. 

In  the  eyes  of  our  sweet  young  hero  was  a  dreamy, 
far-away  look.  His  glance  seemed  to  be  turned  up- 
on something  immeasurably  distant — some  scene 
peopled  with  glorious  visions.  Anon,[a  smile  bright- 
ened upon  his  pouting,  cherry  lips.  Suddenly  his 
charming  reverie  was  broken  by  the  voice  of  his 
father. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  latter,  "  of  what  are  you  think- 
ing so  intently?" 

A  deep  blush  suffused  the  face  of  the  golden- 
haired,  and  it  was  with  downcast  eyes  and  a  trem- 
bling voice,  which  he  vainly  tried  to  render  indiffer- 
ent, that  he  answered: 

"Oh,  nothing,  papa!" 

An  arch  smile  stole  over  the  kindly  face  of  the 
father,  as  he  noted  these  evidences  of  emotion. 

"Ah,  my  sweet  child!  you  can  not  deceive  your 
father.  Come,  now,  confess:  you  were  thinking  of 
Barbara,  the  law  student!" 

Carnation  stole  over  his  cheeks,  and  it  was  with 
downcast  eyes  and  averted  face  that  he  replied: 

"  Oh,  papa!  how  can  you?" 

A  moment  later,  and  the  blushing  youth  had  flung 
his  arms  about  his  father's  neck,  and  his  face  was 
hidden  in  his  father's  bosom.  The  low-breathed  con- 
fession then  whispered  in  the  father's  ear  by  the 
clinging,  kneeling  son,  is  too  sacred  for  revelation. 


A  Revelation  of  Clairvoyance.  193 

Suffice  it  that  it  was  the  confession  of  love's  first 
young  dream.  The  father  heard  it  all,  and  then, 
pressing  a  kiss  upon  the  brow  of  his  clinging  child, 
he  whispered: 

"  Have  courage,  my  Jakie;  all  shall  yet  be  well !" 

With  one  strong,  almost  convulsive  embrace,  the 
young  boy  released  his  hold,  and  fled  with  the  speed 
of  an  antelope  to  the  quiet  of  his  room.  The  old 
gentleman  gazed  a  moment  at  his  retiring  form, 
and  then,  brushing  a  tear  from  his  eye,  murmured: 

<4Ah!  sweet  child!  How  like  what  I  was  once 
myself,  in  years  agone  !" 

It  was  night.  The  mother  of  our  blond  hero  had 
returned  from  her  legal  labors. 

The  family  was  gathered  in  the  comfortable  draw- 
ing room.  The  mother  sat  with  her  feet  on  the 
mantel,  smoking  a  cigar,  and  perusing  the  twelfth 
evening  edition  of  a  Chicago  paper.  The  father 
and  son  sat  by  the  centre-table,  engaged  in  em- 
broidery. 

"  How  does  your  suit  succeed,  my  dear?"  said  the 
father,  breaking  a  prolonged  silence. 

"  Oh,  badly,"  said  the  head  of  the  family,  as  she 
threw  down  the  paper  with  a  gesture  of  vexation. 
''  You  see,"  she  continued,  "  the  sympathies  of  juries 
now-a-days  are  all  with  a  man.  If  he  applies  for 
divorce,  or  sues  for  breach  of  promise,  a  feminine 
jury  will  always  give  him  their  verdict.  Times  are 
not  what  they  were." 

"Well,  never  mind,"  said  the  affectionate  father. 
"  Don't  think  of  it.  Read  us  the  news  in  that  de- 
lightful, moral  and  poetical  family  paper,  the  Sun- 
day Bulldozer." 

The  mother  complied.  Taking  up  the  newspaper, 
she  read  as  follows: 


194  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

"UNUSUAL  CRUELTY  TO  A  HUSBAND. — Bridget  Stapleton  was 
yesterday  morning,  at  the  police  court,  fined  $50,  and  required 
to  give  bonds  of  $500,  to  keep  the  peace  toward  her  husband. 
The  latter  testified  that  he  had  passed  through  a  siege  of  abuse 
and  cruelty,  which  had  continued  for  nine  years." 

"THE  CASE  OF  ALLEGED  RAPE. — Mary  Ann  Lind,  the  young 
woman  accused  of  having  committed  a  rape  upon  the  person  of 
Jeremiah  Elliott,  a  deaf  mute,  was  arraigned  at  the  police  court 
yesterday  morning.  No  evidence  was  taken,  and  the  case  was 
continued  until  Friday,  in  bail  of  $1,000." 

"A  TRIPLE  SENTENCE. — Delilah  Guyton,  a  habitual  drunkard, 
and  chronic  husband- whipper,  was  yesterday  morning  sentenced 
by  Justice  Sturtevant  to  pay  a  fine  of  $10,  to  be  imprisoned 
in  the  bridewell  ten  days,  and  to  give  $200  bail  to  keep  the 
peace." 

"Women  are  becoming  sadly  demoralized,"  said 
the  mother  of  our  golden-haired  hero,  as  she  folded 
up  the  paper.  "Nothing  now-a-days  but  husband- 
beating  011  the  part  of  women,  and  applications  for 
divorce  on  the  part  of  suffering  men.  It  is  terrible  ! 
something  should  be  done  to  elevate  man,  and 
make  him  less  dependent  upon  woman.  By-the-way, 
my  dear,  you  are  one  of  the  directors  of  the 
Erring  Man's  Refuge;  how  does  that  institution 
prosper?" 

"  Not  so  well  as  we  could  wish,"  replied  the  father, 
with  a  sigh.  "  To  be  sure  we  are  effecting  some- 
thing; but  prosti — 

A  shriek  from  his  son  arrested  the  father's  re- 
marks. Turning  toward  the  golden-haired  youth, 
he  was  seen  to  be  in  hysterics. 

"  It  was  your  remark,  sir,"  ejaculated  the  mother 
sternly  to  the  weeping  father.  "  You  do  not  seem 
to  consider  his  sensitive  nature.  Why  will  you  use 
such  terms  as  pro ?" 


A  Revelation  of  Clairvoyance.  195 

Another  and  a  louder  shriek  from  the  son  inter- 
rupted her  remarks.  Burnt  feathers  and  hartshorn 
were  applied,  and  in  a  little  while  the  youth  opened 
his  beautiful  blue  eyes. 

"Where  am  I,  father?" 

"  Here,  darling,  in  your  father's  arms,"  said  the 
latter,  as  he  chafed  the  palid  brow  of  his  golden 
haired  son.  He  was  soon  after  removed,  sobbing, 
but  quieted,  to  his  bed;  and  then,  returning  to  the 
parlor,  the  parents  resumed  the  conversation. 

"We  can  do  but  little,"  continued  the  father,  as 
he  took  up  his  embroidery,  "  because  our  sex  seem 
mad  beyond  remedy.  For  every  fallen  man  that  we 
take  from  the  bagnio,  there  are  a  dozen  who  take  his 
place.  Abandoned  men  boldly  walk  the  streets, 
haunt  our  places  of  amusement,  and  every  where 
jostle  decency  and  virtue.  The  love  of  display  in 
men;  their  vanity;  their  confidence  in  women, — 
these  are  what  lead  men  to  ruin.  I  am  sure  I  do 
not  know  where  to  look  for  the  remedy." 

And  thus  for  hours  the  conversation  flowed  apace. 

Another  night  passed,  and  another  day  came.  It 
was  towards  sunset.  The  boulevards,  avenues  and 
promenades  of  Chicago  were  thronged  with  its  mul- 
tifarious populations.  Fair  men  and  brave  women 
crowded  the  thoroughfares,  fanned  by  the  breezes 
that  fluttered  inland  after  dipping  their  wings  in  the 
cool  waters  of  the  lake. 

It  was  a  motley  crowd  that  flowed  along  the  chan- 
nels of  the  city.  Abandoned  men,  gorgeous  in  dress, 
bold  in  looks,  and  painted  like  tiger-lilies,  thronged 
the  streets.  At  the  crossings,  and  gathered  in  knots 
here  and  there,  were  women,  who  expectorated  to- 
bacco juice,  puffed  out  volumes  of  cigar  smoke,  in- 


196  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

dulged  in  ribald  conversation,  and  commented  upon 
the  faces  and  ankles  of  the  passing  gentlemen. 

Adown  a  principal  thoroughfare  came  a  beautiful, 
golden-haired  young  man,  dressed  with  exquisite 
taste.  His  countenance  seemed  the  home  of  purity 
and  modesty.  He  saw  the  bold  glances  of  the  wo- 
men lounging  at  the  street-corners,  but  he  under- 
stood them  not,  save  that  they  filled  him  with  an 
indefinable  terror  and  loathing. 

As  his  resplendent  figure  passed,  men  turned  en- 
viously, and  women  admiringly,  to  notice  him. 

At  a  distance,  dogging  his  footsteps  like  sleuth- 
hounds,  came  two  ill-favored,  female  ruffians.  Ever 
at  such  a  distance  behind  the  golden-haired  vision 
of  loveliness,  came  the  two. 

Twilight  melted  into  night,  and  the  beautiful  young 
man  seemed  suddenly  to  awake  from  a  delicious 
reverie,  and  to  become  aware  that  night  had  fallen. 
Looking  about  him  with  a  glance  of  terror,  he  saw 
that  he  was  standing  upon  Rush  street  bridge.  Be- 
yond him  was  the  lake,  and  beneath  him  Chicago 
river.  He  turned  to  retrace  his  steps,  when  suddenly 
he  felt  himself  clasped  by  rough,  strong  arms.  A  wild 
shriek  for  help  rang  out  upon  the  startled  air;  and 
then  he  became  enshrouded  with  blissful  uncon- 
sciousness. 

"  Look  alive,  Semantha!"  said  one  of  the  ruffians; 
"  that  yelFll  bring  the  perlice.  Ef  Mother  Kennedy 
gets  after  us,  we're  a  goner." 

So  saying,  they  they  lifted  the  inanimate  form  of 
the  unconscious  youth,  and  bore  it  rapidly  towards 
a  hack  which  had  constantly  followed  them. 

At  the  moment  that  the  ruffianly-looking  female 
driver  stood  holding  the  door,  and  as  the  two  she- 


A  Revelation  of  Clairvoyance  19? 

wretches  were  about  to  thrust  in  the  pallid  victim, 
there  came  an  interruption.  There  was  a  rush  of 
swift  footsteps  and,  a  moment  later,  a  stalwart 
young  woman,  with  eyes  blazing  with  wrath,  stood 
upon  the  scene. 

"  Unhand  him,  scoundrels!"  and,  as  she  uttered 
this  in  thunder  tones,  she  launched  out  from  the 
shoulder  with  both  hands,  and  the  she-ruffians  rolled 
in  the  dust.  Lifting  the  inanimate  body  of  the 
youth,  she  sprang  into  the  carriage. 

"Now,  woman,  devil!  drive  us  to  my  father's. 
You  know  me!  Woe  be  on  your  accursed  head  if 
you  do  not  obey." 

Cowed  by  her  eye  of  fire,  the  driver  climbed  upon 
her  seat,  and  drove  rapidly  away. 

"  It  is  I,  Jakie  darling.     Do  you  not  know  me?" 

Jakie  unclosed  his  beautiful  eyes.  The  glare  of  a 
passing  street  lamp  flashed  in  the  carriage  window, 
and  he  saw  that  he  was  in  the  arms  of  his  own 
BARBARA ! 

We  draw  a  veil  over  the  scene  that  followed.  Suf- 
fice it  that,  moved  by  gratitude  for  his  escape,  and 
the  passionate  appeals  of  Barbara,  the  beautiful 
youth  consented  to  name  the  happy  day.  It  was 
fixed  for  that  day  fortnight.  The  maternal  blessing 
was  given,  and  gorgeous  preparations  were  made 
for  the  bridal.  Time  rolled  away,  and,  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  appointed  day,  the  golden-haired  young 
thing  was  arrayed  in  his  bridal  garments  and  sur- 
rounded by  sympathetic  bridesmen. 

A  stately  woman  advanced,  hands  were  clasped, 
and  the  solemn  words  uttered  which  united  indisso- 
lubly  the  lives  of  this  strong  woman  and  this  beau- 
tiful, virtuous  man. 


198' 


Army  and  Other  Sketches. 


The  writer  regrets  being  unable  to  state  what  fol- 
lowed, owing  to  his  being  recalled  early  the  same 
evening  from  his  clairvoyant  condition.  The  last  he 
remembers  was  being  shown  to  the  nuptial  chamber 
by  his  benevolent  father. 


A  LEAP  YEAR  ROMANCE. 


O'ST  love  me,  sweet  one?" 

The  hot  blood  rushed  tumultuously  into 
my  burning  cheeks  as  I  heard  this  impas- 
sioned inquiry.  My  long  lashes  involuntarily 
sank  upon  my  cheeks.  My  heart  drummed  a 
fierce  tattoo  against  my  breast.  My  long,  taper 
fingers  worked  convulsively  with  my  watch- 
guard.  My  voice  sank  back  into  my  throat,  and  my 
reply  came  like  the  low  murmur  of  waters,  as  they 
flow  modestly  from  the  fountain-head  into  the  garish 
light  of  day.  And  the  reply?  It  was: 
"You  bet!" 

She  clasped  me  convulsively  to  her  bosom.  My 
head  fell  upon  her  shoulder.  The  next  moment  she 
tenderly  lifted  my  averted  face,  and  our  lips  met  in 
a  long,  clinging  kiss. 

This  was  on  the  evening  of  February  5.  1868,  in  a 
house  on  the  West  Side.  I  was  just  nineteen.  Born 
in  wedlock,  I  had  already  entertained  a  veneration 
for  that  institution. 

I  was  just  nineteen.  My  soul  was  pervaded  with 
new  and  bewitching  sensations.  Mysterious,  and 
yet  delicious,  flushes  wandered  through  my  being, 
coming  and  going  I  knew  not  whither.  They  were 
like  aromatic  breezes  in  search  of  flowers  to  breathe 
upon,  and  finding  them  not.  These  flowers  which 


200  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

my  soul  lacked  were  the  young  buds  of  passion, — 
of  love.  The  germs — both  plumule  and  radical — 
were  there,  but  undeveloped.  Hence,  nothing  for 
the  mysterious  breezes  to  breathe  upon, — to  dally 
with, — to  caress. 

But,  on  that  evening,  these  germs  suddenly  ex- 
panded. They  budded  into  modest  tenderness,  and 
then  blossomed. 

She  who  spoke  to  me — whose  magic  awoke  these 
sleeping  forms,  and  covered  my  whole  interior  life 
with  young  and  gorgeous  blossoms — was  a  lady  of 
twenty-one  summers.  She  was  a  magnificent  crea- 
ture. Her  luxurious  chestnut  hair  was  ruffled  in 
front  like  a  wave  touched  by  a  disturbing  breeze.  A 
magnificent  water-fall  rose  from,  and  intensified  the 
expression  of,  her  organ  of  philoprogenitiveness. 
Her  eyes  were  dark  as  night,  and  seemed  to  float  in 
a  humid  tenderness;  Her  teeth  were  diaphanous 
pearls.  Her  mouth  was  wide,  with  voluptuous  lips 
that  unfolded  like  a  scarlet  revelation.  They  were 
lips  as  suggestive  of  what  was  within  as  is  the  red 
flag  of  the  auctioneer. 

Her  shoulders  were  of  an  exquisite  roundness. 
They  were  like  ivory  injected  with  rich,  red  blood. 
Her  white  bosom  rose  and  fell,  not  with  the  angular 
regularity  of  a  pair  of  bellows,  but  with  graceful 
and  wave-like  undulations.  Her  slender  waist  might 

be  clasped  with  one's  interlocked  fingers.  Her , 

but  I  forbear,  lest  I  become  tedious. 

We  sat  side  by  side  on  the  sofa.  Her  arm  had 
stolen  about  my  waist,  and  had  drawn  me  close — 
very  close — to  her.  Her  other  hand  wandered,  like 
an  ethereal  and  shapely  materiality,  caressingly 
through  my  young  moustache.  My  head  reclined 
upon  her  marble  shoulder;  my  nostrils  drank  in  an 


A  Leap  Year  Romance.  201 

almost  imperceptible,  but  intoxicating  perfume,  that 
emanated  from  the  warm  pillow  of  alabaster.  My 
senses  were  rocked  with  the  undulations  of  the 
bosom.  The  perfume  bewildered;  the  almost  im- 
palpable motion  lulled;  the  touch  of  her  fingers  gave 
forth  electric  discharges  that  thrilled  through  my 
sensuous  centres  with  a  result  that  was  half  scorch- 
ing and  half  ecstatic.  I  seemed  sinking  into  an 
abyss,  which  yet,  while  an  abyss,  was  pervaded 
with  delicious  intoxication.  I  did  not  appear  to  be 
falling,  but  rather,  as  it  were,  floating  gently  down 
toward  something,  I  knew  not  what,  and  which 
half -invited  and  half -terrified  me. 

But  suddenly  something  seemed  to  call  me  to  my- 
self,— to  life, — to  reality.  With  a  superhuman  effort 
I  lifted  myself  from  out  the  abyss  into  which  I  was 
was  falling, — falling.  I  lifted  myself  up,  as  a  man 
who,  standing  in  a  basket,  should,  to  escape  some 
deadly  peril,  suddenly  put  forth  a  giant's  strength, 
and  lift  himself  over  a  protecting  wall. 

I  came  back  to  life  from  some  nameless  terror, 
whose  outlines  I  saw  beyond  me.  I  saw  but  out- 
lines. What  menaced  me  I  knew  not. 

Raising  my  eyes  suddenly  to  hers,  I  saw  that  their 
blaze  was  toned  down  with  an  ineffable  tenderness. 
The  richest  of  carnation  glowed  all  over  her'cheeks 
and  bosom.  I  was  seized  with  a  nameless  terror. 

Bidding  my  wildly-throbbing  heart  be  still,  I  sum- 
moned steadiness  to  my  voice,  and  said: 

"  Now  that  you  have  wrung  a  confession  of  love 
from  my  lips,  WHEN  WILL  YOU  MARRY  ME?" 

The  soft  light  rolled  away  from  her  eyes,  as  mists 
disappear  from  the  face  of  the  sun.  The  blood  fled 
from  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes  dropped  confusedly. 

"  Marry — you?"  she  stammered. 


202  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

''Yes,  my  own,  marry  me.  Let  us,  in  this  mo- 
ment of  bliss,  name  the  happy  day,  as  men  who 
slightly  drunken  with  strong  tea,  agree  upon  a  time 
when  they  shall  meet  for  an  intoxication  upon  the 
fiery  wines  of  France." 

"  Nay,  but,  love,"  she  said,  "  let  us  not  now  dis- 
cuss this.  To-morrow,  or  next  week,  we  will  ar- 
range definitely  our  future.  Let  us  not,  with  base 
dates,  derange  the  spell  of  love's  first,  young  dream. 
What  is  time  to  us?  " 

"Miss,"  I  replied,  "this  minute,  — this  fractional 
portion  of  the  present  second!  Not  to-morrow  for 
me!" 

"Ah,  you  distrust  me!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  re- 
proachful voice. 

"Not  distrust,"  I  said,  "but  — safety." 

"You  have  no  confidence  in  me,  my  love!  Be- 
lieve in  me, —  confide  in  me,  —  trust  me  !  Let  us 
defer  what  you  speak  of  till  another  meeting." 

Suddenly  I  tore  myself  from  her  grasp,  and  sprang 
into  the  centre  of  the  room.  All  the  dark  perfidy  of 
the  woman  rose  before  me ;  her  sinister  intentions 
flashed  over  me,  like  a  revelation  come  by  light- 
ning. 

"Fiend!  monster!"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  menaced  her 
with  uplifted  finger, — "I  know  you!  Begone  from 
this  abode  of  purity!  Such  as  you  have  no  place 
here  !  Avaunt !  Quit  my  sight,  ere  I  call  upon 
heaven's  thunderbolts  to  annihilate  you  in  the  midst 
of  your  wicked  purpose  !  " 

Paralyzed  by  my  vehemence,  she  arose,  and,  with- 
out one  look  or  word  of  farewell,  left  the  house.  I 
stood  erect  and  flashing  with  haughty  anger,  till  she 
had  disappeared,  and  then  I  sank  helpless  and 
senseless  to  the  floor. 


A  Leap  Year  Romance.  203 

It  was  hours  before  I  recovered  consciousness. 
Since  that  hour,  I  have  been  weak  and  stricken,  but, 
nevertheless,  grateful,  like  one  who  has  faced,  and 
then  escaped,  a  deadly  peril. 

I  write  this  for  the  benefit  of  my  brethren.  This 
year  is  one  that  menaces  us  with  mortal  wrongs. 
Only  those  who  are  warned  may  escape.  Even 
those  who  are  warned  will  need  far  more  than  ordi- 
nary resolution  to  secure  their  safety. 

Ah!  my  brethren,  let  us  be  vigilant.  For  twelve 
months  will  we  be  exposed  to  the  attacks  of  a  foe, 
than  which  there  is  none  more  subtle,  seductive,  and 
dangerous.  Let  each  man  who  listens  to  my  words 
take  warning,  and  prepare  himself  for  a  struggle 
whose  issues  involve  more  than  death. 


THE  HORRORS  OF  MASONRY* 


HE  noble  enterprising,  and  moral  Christians 
who  met  in  Chicago  for  the  purpose  of  kick- 
ing over  Masonry,  have  my  profound  sym- 
pathies.    Why  I  thus  sympathize  with  their 
efforts,  I  shall  proceed  to  relate. 

Out  in  a  smiling  little  railway  town  there 
can  be  seen,  to-day,  the  remnants  of  a  man.  He 
now,  in  his  reduced  condition,  weighs  only  220.  Had 
not  there  happened  to  him  the  fearful  event  which 
I  am  about  to  narrate,  he  might  now  weigh  as  much 
as  a  ton,  or  as  the  editress  of  The  Agitator. 

It  was  two  years  ago  that  this  citizen  became  pos- 
sessed with  the  righteous  idea  that  Masonry  is  a 
blight,  a  wilt,  a  blast.  After  carefully  examining 
the  matter,  he  felt  himself  called  upon  to  undertake 
a  crusade  against  the  afflicting  organization.  After 
consulting  with  several  of  his  friends,  he  concluded 
to  join  the  order,  get  its  secrets,  and  then  annihilate 
it  by  revealing  them. 

Bidding  a  tearful  farewell  to  his  loving  wife,  and 
clasping  her  in  a  fond,  it  might  be  a  last,  embrace, 
he  started  on  his  pilgrimage. 

Going  boldly  to  a  lodge-room,  he  knocked  loudly 

at  the  door,  and  was  bidden  to  enter.     He  went  in. 

At  that  precise  moment,  the  air  was  rent,  and  the 

earth  shaken  by  a  terrific  burst  of  thunder.     His 

knees  smote  together,  as  this  menacing  roar  tore 


The  Horrors  of  Masonry.  205 

through  his  ear;  but  he  pressed  forward,  nerved  by 
a  high  sense  of  duty. 

It  was  noon  of  the  following  day.  The  single 
street  of  the  little  village  was  lined  with  anxious 
faces.  Every  man,  woman  and  child  had  turned 
out  to  discuss  the  fate  of  him  who  had  gone  the  night 
before  to  discover  and  reveal  the  secrets  of  Masonry. 
His  frenzied  wife,  clasping  an  infant  in  either  arm, 
tearing  her  disheveled  hair  with  her  hands,  ran 
hither  and  thither,  like  a  maniac,  in  search  of  her 
loved  and  lost. 

Since  the  time  of  his  departure,  he  had  not  been 
seen  or  heard  of.  It  was  believed  that  he  had  fallen 
a  victim  to  the  fury  of  the  conspirators  whom  he 
had  undertaken  to  expose. 

Gradually  the  women,  and  the  children,  and  the 
men,  gathered  in  front  of  the  gloomy  pile  which  was 
believed  to  contain  the  penetralia  in  which  met  the 
dread  Masonic  order.  With  upturned  faces,  and 
anxious  .hearts,  they  gazed  at  its  closed  shutters, 
each  of  which  seemed  the  repository  of  some  awful 
secret. 

Suddenly  the  front  doors  opened,  and  then,  pro- 
pelled by  a  tremendous  kick,  there  shot  into  the 
street  a  horrid  form! 

It  was  that  of  the  lost  husband;  but,  oh!  how 
changed!  He  was  neither  naked  nor  clad,  for  upon 
his  left  foot  was  a  slipper;  upon  his  right,  a  stock- 
ing; around  his  neck,  a  noose  with  a  dangling  cord! 

He  came  down  the  steps  at  a  headlong  pace.  His 
eyes  were  bloodshot,  and  were  lighted  with  a  glance 
of  mortal  terror.  As  he  reached  the  sidewalk  he 
recovered  himself,  and  looked  wildly  around. 

Thus  he  stood  for  five  minutes,  and  then  a  woman 


206  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

covered,  her  face  with  her  apron,  and  the  other 
women,  a  few  minutes  later,  followed  her  example. 

Then  he  gave  a  demoniacal  yell,  and  charged 
through  the  crowd.  Up  the  street  he  tore  like  a 
maddened  bull,  yelling  at  every  jump,  as  though 
punched  with  a  red-hot  iron. 

The  entire  population  started  in  pursuit.  He  kept 
on  for  three  days,  and  then  run  himself  into  the 
ground,  and  was  captured.  He  was  found  to  be  an 
idiot.  He  asserted  that  his  name  was  Solomon 
Abiff,  and  he  wanted  an  acacia  set  out  in  his  ear. 

To-day  this  victim  of  Masonic  cruelty  wanders 
about,  aimless  and  hopeless.  He  often  mistakes 
some  body  else's  wife  for  his  own,  and  can  not  rec- 
ognize his  own  children.  He  is  a  melancholy  wreck, 
and  his  friends  have  determined,  as  a  last  resort,  to 
secure  him  a  consulship  to  some  foreign  nation. 

Does  not  this  affecting  incident  prove  the  nefari- 
ous character  of  Masonry,  beyond  all  dispute? 

Some  years  ago  I  knew  of  a  most  foul  murder 
being  committed.  A  Mason  was  arrested  for  the 
crime.  HE  WAS  NOT  CONVICTED. 

It  was  proved  that  he  was  500  miles  away  at  the 
time,  and  that  the  murdered  man  was  killed  by  some 
body  else.  But  what  of  that?  Who  doubts  that  he 
escaped  because  he  was  a  Mason? 

I  know  another  case  which  shows  the  devilish  dis- 
position of  Masons.  A  prominent  married  man 
applied  to  a  friend  whom  he  supposed  to  be  a 
Mason,  for  the  degrees.  The  latter  got  together  six 
others,  and  organized  a  plan  to  receive  the  appli- 
cant. 

The  latter  was  received  on  the  night  in  question, 
in  the  "  lodge''  room.  Blue  lights,  burned,  and  sol- 


The  Horrors  of  Masonry.  207 

emn  gongs  roared,  while  the  seven  conspirators 
groaned  portentously  in  chorus. 

And  then  the  applicant  was  blindfolded  and  led 
over  one  turned-up  table,  across  twelve  inverted 
chairs,  tripped  over  seven  extended  legs,  soused  in 
four  tubs  of  water,  slid  down  one  soaped  board, 
against  the  grain,  and  was  then  brought  up  to  be 
examined. 

Sworn  on  an  authenticated  copy  of  Munchausen, 
to  tell  the  truth,  he  was  interrogated  by  the  Gr.  R.  J., 
who  was  the  village  physician. 

"  Confess,"  said  the  latter,  "  all  your  sins.  If  there 
be  one  crime  on  your  conscience,  you  must  reveal  it. 
On  your  honor,  on  your  solemn  oath,  have  you  ever 
done  aught  to  wrong  the  marital  relations  of  any 
citizen  of  this  village?" 

"Must  I  answer  this  question?  "  said  the  shrinking 
candidate. 

"You  MUST,  would  you  ever  pass  beneath  the 
Royal  Arch,"  solemnly  responded  Dr.  R.  "  Answer, 
now,  upon  your  fearful  oath." 

"No  one,  then,  except — except — in  the  case  of— 
Doctor  R. ! "  reluctantly  confessed  the  candidate. 

Suddenly  Dr.  R.  launched  out  his  right  hand,  and 
"handed"  the  candidate  "one"  on  his  smeller. 
Then  the  latter  tore  off  his  bandage,  and,  being 
game,  he  responded  with  his  left.  Then  the  two 
clinched,  and  fought  all  over  the  one  table  and 
twelve  chairs;  four  times  up  and  down  the  soaped 
board,  and  in  and  out  every  tub  of  water,  for  four 
hours  and  tlnrty-eight  minutes.  Both  were  licked 
so  badly  that  they  had  to  be  carried  home  on 
blankets. 

A  suit  for  divorce  followed,  and  Dr.  R.  and  Mrs. 
R.  took  separate  lodgings. 


208  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

This  heart-rending  occurrence  exemplifies,  further, 
the  atrocious  character  of  Masonry.  It  is  seen  that 
Masonry  is  a  convenient  garb  in  which  men  not 
Masons  may  perpetrate  inhumanities  and  nameless 
crimes.  I  charge  upon  Masonry  the  breaking  up  of 
the  happy  family  of  Dr.  R.,  by  separating  him  from 
a  wife,  who  loved  wisely,  and  two  well. 

As  a  further  proof  of  the  infamous  character  of 
these  Morgan-killers,  I  will  expose  some  of  their 
orgies  which  occurred  at  Haas's  Park,  near  the  city 
of  Chicago. 

St.  John's  day  is  observed  by  those  people  who 
killed  Morgan.  Morgan  is  a  man  who  was  killed  in 
time  to  carry  an  election.  His  initials  are  G.  E., — 
Good  Enough  Morgan. 

The  men  who  killed  Morgan  had  red  plumes  in 
their  hats,  at  Haas's  Park,  which  indicated  their 
bloody  character.  They  also  had  swords.  They 
are  the  same  kind  of  swords  with  which  G.  E. 
Morgan  was  slaughtered.  They  also  carried  several 
immense  poles,  which  are  pointed  at  one  end.  These 
poles  are  employed  for  the  purpose  of  marking  spots 
to  be  used  for  the  graves  of  those  whom  the  order 
slaughters. 

A  good  many  of  the  men  had  engravings  of  skulls 
on  their  breasts.  These  are  accurate  likenesses  of 
the  skulls  of  men  who  have  been  murdered  by  the 
Masons.  When  a  Mason  has  killed  three  men  he  is 
entitled  to  wear  a  likeness  of  his  victims'  heads, 
and  to  take  the  degree  known  as  Golgotha. 

This  is  the  true  explanation  of  these  skull  badges. 
Of  course  the  Masons  do  not  own  it.  They  pre- 
tended that  they  wore  these  skulls  on  account  of  the 
wet  weather.  They  said  a  flood  might  come  up, 


The  Horrors  of  Masonry.  209 

and  they  wanted  to  be  ready  to  skull  themselves  to 
dry  land. 

Each  of  them  had  the  number  32  among  his  en- 
signa.  This  is  the  number  that  each  of  them  is 
sworn  to  kill. 

The  Masonic  performances  at  Haas's  Park  were 
of  a  sinister  character.  How  many  men  and  women 
were  slaughtered  during  the  orgies  of  the  day,  and 
buried  among  the  shadows,  no  one,  unless  a  member 
of  the  anti-Masonic  societies  will  ever  know.  One 
man  not  a  Mason  was  discovered  among  the  crowd. 
An  hour  later,  he  was  found  lying  on  his  back  be- 
hind a  tent.  He  was  dead,  yes,  dead — drunk. 

Some  of  the  ceremonies  of  the  saturnalia  were  hor- 
rifying. One  Druidical  looking  Mason,  with  a 
long,  gray  beard,  and  lurid  spectacles,  read  some- 
thing from  a  roll  of  manuscript.  As  he  did  so  he  was 
surrounded  by  an  auditory  that  occupied  itself  with 
weird  and  fantastic  ceremonials.  His  words  seemed 
to  fill  them  with  a  strange  power.  Unearthly  sounds 
filled  the  building,  in  which  one  could  distinguish 
gurglings  like  that  of  blood  from  gashed  throats,  or 
the  flow  of  champagne  from  bottles.  The  air  was 
filled  with  whizzing  pellets  the  size  of  corks.  Bursts 
of  demoniacal  laughter  tore  through  the  din.  The 
further  the  speaker  with  the  lurid  spectacles  pro- 
ceeded, the  louder  grew  the  clamor. 

It  was  a  fine  address — probably.  It  was  a  cere- 
monial said  to  be  illustrative  of  the  condition  of  the 
Masons  who  built  the  tower  of  Babel. 

Some  of  the  Masonic  rites  are  peculiar.  As  every 
thing  about  the  craft  has  some  mathematical  con- 
nection, the  triangle,  the  square,  the  pentagon,  etc., 
were  symbolized.  The  circle  was  represented  by 
six  small  rings  about  the  size  of  a  silver  dollar.  A 


210  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

Masonic  candidate  would  take  these  six  rings  and 
attempt  to  throw  them,  one  at  a  time,  over  spikes 
driven  in  a  board.  To  take  one  of  these  degrees 
cost  twenty-five  cents.  If  the  candidate  threw  one 
of  the  rings  around  one  of  the  spikes,  he  was  ad- 
judged worthy  and  well  qualified. 

Another  degree,  which  was  conferred  upon  a  good 
many,  was  one  in  which  the  candidates  stood  in 
rows,  and  poured  an  amber-colored  fluid,  with  a 
creamy  surface,  into  their  opened  moutjis.  These 
degrees  cost  five  cents  each.  One  man  took  forty- 
two  of  these  during  the  afternoon.  He  was  then 
the  highest  Mason  on  the  ground,  except  a  ther- 
mometer. There  was  a  thermometer  on  the  ground 
that  had  reached  the  85th  degree. 

Every  once  in  a  while  would  be  heard  a  loud  ex- 
clamation. It  came  from  somebody  who  was  being 
murdered.  In  several  cases  of  which  I  was  a  wit- 
ness, these  fell  victims  of  Masonic  vengeance  were 
outsiders,  who  were  disposed  of  by  being  shot  in  the 
neck. 

Lovely  women  were  there,  who  mingled  with  the 
descendants  of  men  who  killed  Morgan  as  freely  as 
if  they  had  been  pious  members  of  the  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association.  A  woman  is  a  mystery.  Her 
liking  for  Masonry  can  only  be  explained  on  the 
ground  that  it  is  composed  exclusively  of  men.  In 
loving  Masonry,  she  is  engaged  in  a  sort  of  whole- 
sale business  of  the  affections. 

The  sexton  of  the  order  is  a  man  named  Berry. 
He  has  charge  of  the  Berry-al  services.  It  has  its 
Bailey,  which  will  hold  more  than  any  other  insti- 
tution of  the  kind  in  existence. 

And  all  this  time  the  killing  was  going  on  about 
the  encampment.  Just  how  many  were  slaughtered 


The  Horrors  of  Masonry.  211 

will  not  be  known  with  certainty  until  the  next 
meeting  of  the  anti-Masonic  Convention. 

Mrs.  Livermore  is  not  a  member.  She  stated  in  a 
late  speech  that  when  she  was  born  she  turned  her 
face  to  the  wall  and  wept  because  she  was  a  girl, 
and  was,  therefore,  forever  debarred  from  being  a 
Mason  and  obtaining  her  rites. 

There  were  several  cases  of  missing  men,  which 
shows  the  true  character  of  Masonry.  One  woman 
missed  her  husband.  They  had  been  long  married, 
and  she  had  learned  to  like  him.  And  now  he  was 
gone.  She  commenced  a  frantic  search.  She  found 
him  in  a  tent,  conversing  in  low,  impassioned  tones 
with  a  woman  younger  and  better  looking  than  her- 
self. Her  heart  was  broken  at  the  sight!  Such  are 
the  doings  of  Masonry! 

They  had  what  was  called  an  encampment.  A 
Mason  in  camp  meant  one  who  was  engaged  in 
something  horrible,  as  can  be  proved  by  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  anti-secret  national  convention.  The 
latter  had  some  camps.  These  scamps  at  Farwell 
Hall  differed  from  those  camps  at  Haas's  Park. 

Toward  night,  when  the  Masons  grew  tired  of 
slaughter,  they  simply  selected  their  victims,  and 
left  them  bound.  I  saw  scores  of  them  bound— for 
home.  It  was  a  thrilling  spectacle.  One's  heart 
bled  as  he  contemplated  their  woe-begone  faces. 

There  were  two  Masons  there  who  seemed  to  ap- 
preciate the  true  character  of  the  order  to  which 
they  belong.  Their  names  are  W.  A.  Stevens  and 
J.  Ward  Ellis,  dentists.  Both  of  them  are  in  the 
habit  of  looking  down  in  the  mouth. 

Enough  has  been  said,  in  this  article,  to  show  up 
the  true  character  of  Masonry.  Their  orgies,  at 


212 


Army  and  Other  Sketches. 


Haas's  Park,  among  the  trees,  show  their  treas- 
onable nature.  The  number  of  knights  among  them 
prove  the  darkness  of  their  proceedings.  Unless 
everybody  wishes  to  be  Morganized,  they  should  be 
suppressed. 


A  DREAM,  AND  HOW  IT  WAS  FUL- 
FILLED. 

the  fall  of  1862  I  was  suddenly  called  from 
home  by  pressing  business.  The  affair  ne- 
cessitated a  journey  of  several  hours  by 
rail,  and  then  the  crossing  of  some  fifty  miles 
j±  of  country  on  horseback.  I  calculated  to  reach 
the  railroad  terminus  on  the  night  of  the  day 
upon  which  I  left  home.  Procuring  a  horse,  I  pro- 
posed to  leave  the  terminus  early  the  next  morning, 
and  to  gain  the  end  of  my  journey  some  time  during 
the  earlier  portion  of  the  following  night.  My  busi- 
ness would  consume  two  days,  and  I  should  return 
in  two  more;  and  hence  my  absence  would  be  in- 
cluded within  a  week. 

The  place  at  which  I  was  living  was  a  large  city 
in  one  of  the  Southern  States,  and  the  few  miles  of 
railroad  were  the  beginning  of  a  line  which,  when 
completed,  would  cross  the  State.  The  point  to 
which  the  road  was  completed  was  a  town  of  some 
three  hundred  inhabitants;  and  here  resided  a  dis- 
tant relative  of  my  wife.  I  had  been  married  only 
a  week  when  the  necessity  which  called  me  across 
the  State  made  its  appearance. 

Very  naturally,  my  wife  objected  to  the  journey; 
but,  as  it  was  imperative, — involving  many  con- 
siderable interests, — I  could  not  yield,  however 
gladly  I  would  have  done  so,  to  her  request.  It 


214  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

then  occurred  to  her  that  she  might  accompany  me 
to  the  terminus  of  the  road,  and  there,  with  her  rela- 
tive, await  my  return.  My  desire  for  her  society, 
and  also  to  gratify  her,  overcame  some  objections 
which  suggested  themselves  when  I  thought  that 
the  place  at  which  she  would  have  to  stay  was  but 
poorly  supplied  with  comforts,  or  even  ordinary 
conveniences.  I  hinted  at  the  existence  of  these 
probable  discomforts;  but  it  was  of  no  avail. 

"That  may  all  be," said  she;  "but  they  will  not 
last  long;  and,  besides,  I  think  them  a  very  cheap 
price  to  pay  for  the  pleasure,  of  your  society  to  T. 
and  return. 

Women,  with  the  dew  of  girlhood  yet  fresh  on 
their  lips,  and  sparkling  in  the  sheen  of  their  eyes, 
possess  irresistible  argumentative  powers,  al- 
though, mayhap,  they  have  never  heard  of  Whately. 

Of  course,  I  consented;  and,  at  a  little  before  dusk 
that  same  day,  we  found  ourselves  dismounting  from 
the  train  at  T.  I  found,  without  difficulty,  the  resi- 
dence of  my  wife's  relative;  and,  in  the  course  of 
half  an  hour,  we  were  under  his  roof. 

The  residence  of  my  wife's  relative — whom  I  will 
call  Hermance — was  situated  about  three-fourths  of 
a  mile  from  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  It  was  a 
farm-house  of  the  better  class,  and  was  surrounded 
by  the  usual  negro-cabins  and  out-houses. 

At  that  time,  the  war  was  in  progress;  and  the 
country  about  Hermance's  was  liable  to  be  visited 
by  roaming  bands  belonging  to  both  sides.  My 
friend  had  never  taken  an  active  part  in  politics; 
and,  being  supposed  to  be  quiet,  conservative  and 
inoffensive,  he  had  the  good  will  of  both  the  bellig- 
erents, and,  in  consequence,  was  rarely  disturbed  by 
either.  The  most  that  had  hitherto  happened  to 


A  Dream,  and  how  it  was  Fulfilled.        215 

him  was  the  taking  of  a  horse,  or  the  slaughter  of 
some  of  his  hogs;  but  even  these  depredations  were 
not  authorized,  and  were  committed  against  the 
orders  of,  or  were  unknown  to,  responsible  parties. 

Just  at  that  time,  rumors  reached  the  place  that  a 
one-armed  guerrilla,  noted  for  his  brutality  and  dis- 
regard of  all  right,  was,  with  a  small  force,  ravag- 
ing the  country,  some  seventy  miles  distant.  But 
he  had  hitherto  confined  his  operations  to  the  lower 
portion  of  the  State,  and  it  was  not  expected  that 
he  would  venture  so  far  north  as  T.  His  perform- 
ances were,  therefore,  discussed  simply  as  a  portion 
of  the  current  news  of  the  day,  and  not  with  any 
view  to  his  probable  appearance  in  that  neighbor- 
hood. 

The  unsettled  state  of  the  country  disquieted  me 
somewhat;  and  I,  therefore,  urged  upon  my  wife  to 
return  to  the  city  in  the  morning  train.  She  refused, 
and  was  the  more  obstinate  in  her  refusal  for  the 
reason  that  Hermance  and  his  family  were  emphatic 
in  pooh-poohing  the  idea  that  the  slightest  danger 
was  to  be  incurred  by  her  remaining. 

"And  then,  only  think,"  said  my  wife,  "of  the 
long  journey  to  town,  all  alone.  Besides,  I  want 
some  fresh  air;  and  then,  by  staying  here,  I  shall 
see  you  ever  so  many  hours  sooner." 

There  is  no  particular  use  of  reasoning  during  the 
honeymoon;  logic  is  an  after-growth;  and,  conse- 
quently, I  soon  found  myself  under  the  necessity  of 
yielding.  I  gave  a  reluctant  and  foreboding  consent; 
and  the  next  morning,  at  daylight,  upon  one  of  Her- 
mance's  unequaled  horses,  I  was  cantering  up  the 
valley-road  that  led  to  my  destination. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  the  details  of  my 
ride,  further  than  to  say  that  the  weather  was 


216  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

superb  and  bracing,  the  roads  dry,  hard  and  excel- 
lent. Just  before  sundown,  I  drew  rein  at  a  dilapi- 
dated "  hotel"  of  a  half -ruined  country  town  named 

E ,  which  was  the  place  to  which  my  business 

called  me.  Two  or  three  times  during  the  day,  I 
met  country  people,  and,  in  our  exchange  of  news,  I 
had  been  told  that  "  One- Armed  Johnson,"  as  he 
was  termed,  was  moving  northward.  At  each  time 
that  this  rumor  was  mentioned,  it  was  accompanied 
with  an  account  of  some  fiendish  atrocity  said  to 
have  been  committed  by  this  ferocious  leader. 
It  was  said  that  he  had  shot  down  this  one  in 
cold  blood  in  the  midst  of  his  family;  and  that, 
in  another  case,  the  wife  and  daughter  of  some 
other  had  been  given  over  to  the  brutal  lusts  of 
the  gang,  in  the  very  presence  of  husband  and 
brothers. 

These  things  did  not  have  much  effect  upon  me 
until  I  had  retired  to  my  bed  at  night.  During  the 
day,  the  swift  rush  of  the  air,  and  the  constant  ac- 
cession of  new  subjects, — of  trees  draped  in  all  the 
variegated  glories  of  autumn;  of  flocks  of  wild  tur- 
keys crossing  the  road  before  me;  of  an  occasional 
deer  bounding  away  in  the  depths  of  some  wood,— 
all  these  had  distracted  my  attention,  and  left  me 
little  opportunity  of  pondering  upon  the  information 
I  had  received. 

But,  with  this  silence  of  night,  my  mind  had  full 
scope  for  the  examination  of  the  intelligence  which 
I  had  received.  As  report  had  it,  Johnson  was 
marching  directly  towards  T. ;  and,  as  he  was  only 
some  seventy  miles  distant  three  days  before,  it 
began  to  seem  to  my  excited  imagination  that,  if  he 
continued  northward,  he  would,  within  a  very  short 


A  Dream,  and  how  it  was  Fulfilled.        217 

time,  reach  the  neighborhood  in  which  I  had  left  my 
wife. 

Disagreeable  as  were  these  reflections,  I  could 
console  myself  only  with  the  idea  that  I  could  not, 
at  the  instant,  do  any  thing  to  prevent  what  might 
occur.  Much  troubled,  but  hoping  for  the  best,  I 
finally,  and,  with  many  starts  and  wakings,  fell  into 
a  profound  sleep. 

How  long  I  slept  before  my  thoughts  began  to 
take  shape  and  form  themselves  into  regular  pro- 
cesses, I  can  not  remember.  The  most  I  can  recall 
with  reference  to  this  portion  of  the  night  is,  that  I 
fell  asleep  after  a  long  time;  and  then  there  ensued 
an  oblivion  which  surrounded  me,  as  it  were,  by  a 
great  waste  of  darkness. 

When  my  recollection  grasps  what  first  occurred, 
I  seemed  to  be  some  where  in  the  midst  of  a  chaos, 
of  which  I  was  the  only  living  figure.  I  was 
upon  a  vast  plain,  like  that  which  would  remain 
were  the  sun  blotted  out,  were  vegetation  to  die,  and 
were  all  motion  and  life  struck  from  existence.  A 
great  darkness  lay  upon  everything,  through  which 
I  could  peer  for  a  short  distance,  but  in  which  I  could 
only  discover  vast  rocks,  with  precipitous  sides  and 
innumerable  points.  Among  these  rocks  there  were 
no  paths,  no  voices, — nothing  but  a  silence,  which 
was  awful  in  its  extent. 

How  long  I  wandered  here  I  can  not  tell.  I 
seemed  to  have  no  definite  aim;  but  it  appeared  as 
if  I  sought  something  whose  character  I  did  not 
know.  This  something  Avas  to  be  gotten  only  by 
moving  forward;  and  thus  I  continued  to  wander 
for  a  length  of  time,  which  appeared  that  of  a 
lifetime.  For  all  these  years  I  groped  amidst  this 
darkness, — clambering  over  and  around  the  ever- 


218  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

lasting  rocks, — and  meeting  always  with  only  the 
profound  silence  and  the  interminable  gloom.  My 
companions  were  the  unyielding  rocks,  the  obscurity 
and  the  silence.  I  would  attempt  to  cry  out  at 
times;  but  my  voice  seemed  frozen.  It  was  as 
noiseless  as  a  stream  locked  in  the  embraces  of  win- 
ter. 

After  what  was  a  century  of  wandering  amidst 
the  solitude,  the  pointed  rocks,  and  the  darkness, 
there  came  a  period  which  possessed  motion,  but  no 
life.  Truncated  cones,  with  their  smaller  ends 
touching  the  earth,  and  their  bases  high  in  air,  and 
inclined  a  little  from  the  perpendicular,  seemed  to 
revolve  with  enormous  rapidity.  Beside  these,  there 
were  immense  globes,  and  they  spun  about  their 
centres  with  infinite  swiftness.  Both  were  the  color 
of  burnished  silver;  both  were  stationary,  save  in 
their  revolutions  about  their  own  centres.  Noise- 
lessly, but  with  a  dizzying  swiftness,  their  bodies 
revolved.  There  was  still  no  life, — only  these  forms 
and  their  revolutions.  There  was  no  seeming  cause 
for  their  motion.  They  spun  like  the  balance-wheel 
of  a  machine  after  the  power  has  been  removed. 

To  the  world  of  my  dreams  there  were  now  added 
light  and  motion.  It  needed  yet  life  for  its  comple- 
tion. 

In  the  new  phase  of  my  dream,  to  which  there  had 
come  light  and  motion,  I  appeared  to  have  no  im- 
portant part.  I  moved  among  the  whirling  cones  and 
spheres  as  if  they  had  been  non-resistant.  When  I 
ran  against  one  of  them,  it  seemed  to  enter  my  form 
as  if  I  had  been  simple  air;  and,  while  one  was  thus 
against  me,  or  partly  within  me,  its  motion  kept  up 
continuously,  and  I  experienced  a  peculiar  feeling, 
as  if  that  portion  of  my  form,  or  body,  within  the 


A  Dream,  and  how  it  was  Fulfilled.        219 

reach  of  the  whirling  object,  had  become  a  part  of 
it,  and  as  if  it  had  partaken  of  the  motion. 

This  light  and  this  motion  gave  me  no  impression, 
save  a  dim  premonition  that  they  indicated  the  swift 
approach  of  some  terrible  catastrophe. 

Motion  and  light,  had  been  added  to  the  original 
chaos  of  my  dream.  Suddenly  there  came  LIFE. 

A  transition,  so  rapid  that  it  left  me  no  time  to 
note  the  details  of  how  the  one  disappeared  and  the 
other  came,  suddenly  occurred.  In  an  instant  the 
revolving  cones  and  spheres  gave  place  to  a  wooded 
road  winding  down  the  valley  of  a  shallow  stream. 
I  recognized  it  as  the  road  along  which  I  had  trav- 
eled the  morning  previous.  At 'the  same  instant, 
there  came  the  resonant  clatter  of  hoofs;  and,  a  mo- 
ment after,  a  party  of  horsemen,  on  a  swift  gallop, 
emerged  from  the  forest,  and  moved  in  the  direction 
of  the  settlement  I  had  left  in  the  morning. 

They  were  a  rough,  ferocious  crowd.  They  were 
dressed  in  almost  every  conceivable  manner,  from 
blue  to  gray,  and  including  the  rough  homespun 
dress  of  the  farmer.  All  had  guns  lying  across  their 
thighs  at  the  pommels  of  their  saddles.  Some  had 
sabres,  whose  steel  scabbards  gave  forth  a  metallic 
rattle  as  they  bounded  from  the  flanks  of  the  horses. 
Nearly  all  had  revolvers  strapped  to  their  waists; 
and  a  few  carried  enormous  knives,  not  unlike 
rudely-constructed  swords. 

At  their  head  rode  a  man  of  vast  stature  and  pro- 
digious breadth  of  shoulders.  His  black  hair  hung 
in  long  and  tangled  masses  below  the  collar  of  his 
gray  coat.  He  wore  a  slouch  hat  with  an  immense 
brim,  which,  turned  up  above  his  eyes,  gave  him  a 
singularly  wild,  reckless  appearance.  His  beard 
was  of  great  luxuriance,  and  hung  down  till  its  ends 


220  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

mingled  with  the  tossing  mane  of  his  fiery  horse. 
His  left  arm  had  been  taken  off  between  the  elbow 
and  the  shoulder.  With  his  right  hand  he  managed 
the  motion  of  his  horse,  and  seemed  to  guide  it  rather 
by  volition  than  by  the  touch  of  the  reins. 

I  recognized  "  One- Armed  Johnson,"  and  his 
band  of  guerrillas. 

It  required  but  a  second  to  notice  all  these  details. 
I  had  barely  taken  them  in  when  the  cavalcade 
emerged  from  a  gorge  formed  by  the  narrowing  of 
the  valley.  At  this  point,  the  road  crossed  the 
stream,  and  ran  at  right  angles  across  the  sloping 
valley  up  to  the  height  upon  which  was  situated  the 
house  of  my  friend  Hermance. 

Plunging  into  the  stream,  the  party  sent  the  water 
flying  in  wild  confusion,  and  then  they  cantered  up 
the  slope.  I  appeared  to  be  standing  at  the  exact 
point  where  the  valley  suddenedly  widened  out  from 
the  gorge.  The  sloping  ascent  of  the  road,  the 
farm-house,  in  unsuspicious  security,  the  party  of 
brigands  were  all  before  me  as  if  upon  a  map.  I 
divined  their  purpose;  and  I  made  the  most  fran- 
tic efforts  to  advance  in  the  direction  of  the  house. 
I  could  not  move  an  inch.  An  invisible,  but  im- 
penetrable, wall  seemed  to  bar  my  progress;  and  I 
dashed  myself  against  it  vainly,  but  with  frenzied 
desperation.  I  essayed  to  call  out;  but  my  voice 
seemed  to  reach  only  to  my  lips. 

All  the  time  I  saw  the  party  of  horsemen  advanc- 
ing. When  about  half  way  up  the  slope  they  sud- 
denly, at  a  word  of  command  from  their  leader, 
formed  abreast,  in  two  lines,  on  his  right,  facing  to- 
ward the  house.  A  moment  after,  some  dozen  or 
fifteen  moved  in  advance  of  the  rest.  They  d3ployed 
like  a  line  of  skirmishers;  and,  while  the  centre 


A  Dream,  and  how  it  was  Fulfilled.        221 

moved  forward  slowly,  the  right  and  left  flanks  ad- 
vanced rapidly,  till  the  line  resembled  a  long  cres- 
cent. This  line  moved  forward,  and  closed  about 
the  building,  entirely  surrounding  it;  and,  an  instant 
after,  the  leader  and  the  main  body,  at  a  swift  gallop, 
dashed  on  the  green  in  front  of  the  house. 

There  was  a  moment's  parley;  and  then  a  long 
puff  of  white  smoke,  with  a  thin  body  of  flame, 
poured  from  one  of  the  windows,  and,  almost  simul- 
taneously, a  riderless  horse  detached  itself  from  the 
struggling  mass,  and,  with  a  snort  of  terror,  galloped 
up  the  road,  and,  with  swinging  stirrups,  disap- 
peared over  the  brow. 

What  followed  passed  with  the  rapidity  of  light- 
ning. There  were  fierce  flashes,  puffs  of  smoke,  the 
thud  of  bullets,  and  the  sound  of  breaking  glass. 
Then  a  blue  smoke  rolled  up  from  the  further  side 
of  the  house,  which  soon  became  darker,  and  was 
mixed  with  great  gushes  of  flame.  I  saw  that  the 
house  was  fired.  The  flames  burst  from  a  window, 
then  ran  in  spirals  under  the  eaves,  and  then 
crawled,  like  slender  serpents,  over  the  roof.  A  lit- 
tle later,  and  the  roof  was  a  volcano,  which  seemed 
to  vomit  flame,  smoke,  and  cinders,  which  shot  to 
an  immense  height,  and  then  fell  outward,  as  if  the 
whole  were  a  fountain  bursting  upward  with  irre- 
sistible power. 

Just  before  the  flames  enveloped  the  whole  struct- 
ure, I  saw  a  female  figure  rush  wildly  to  an  upper 
window,  and  then  recoil  as  if  appalled  by  the  hell 
of  flames  which  roared  around  and  beneath  her.  It 
was  my  wife!  I  saw  her  turn  away  with  a  wild,  de- 
spairing look,  and  an  imploring  gesture;  and  then 
the  flame  and  smoke  enshrouded  the  window,  and  I 
saw  her  no  more. 


222  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

I  made  one  more  tremendous  effort  to  rush  to  her 
assistance.  The  invisible  barrier  seemed  to  give 
way  before  me,  and  I  plunged  madly  forward;  but, 
at  the  very  first  bound,  infinite  depth  suddenly 
yawned  beneath  me,  and  I  felt  myself  falling  into 
space — down,  down,  with  terrible  velocity,  like  a 
cannon-ball  dropped  from  the  clouds;  and  then,  as  I 
seemed  about  to  be  crushed  to  fragments  against 
the  bottom  of  the  abyss,  a  strong,  yielding  medium 
appeared  to  receive  me,  to  break  the  force  of  my  de- 
scent; and  then  I  awoke. 

Day  was  just  dimly  breaking.  A  few  weak  rays 
of  grayish  light  entered  my  room,  and  gave  to  its 
contents  a  ghastly  visibility.  The  horrors  of  my 
dream  were  fresh  upon  me;  and,  impelled  by  an  in- 
definable terror,  I  had  but  one  thought — that  of 
reaching  T.  Dressing  myself,  I  hurried  forth  to  the 
stable;  and,  throwing  a  few  ears  of  corn  before  my 
horse,  I  waited  with  feverish  impatience  through 
the  age  which  was  consumed  by  the  animal  in  eat- 
ing. I  could  not  eat;  and  I  only  waited  till  the  corn 
had  disappeared  to  take  my  departure.  Without 
disturbing  any  of  the  household,  I  led  out  my  horse, 
threw  ^yself  in  the  saddle,  and  spurred  savagely 
on  my  return. 

I  devoured  the  space  which  separated  me  from  T. 
with  a  fevered  body  and  a  soul  constantly  racked  by 
the  horrors  of  my  dream.  My  mind's  eye  saw  con- 
stantly the  figure  in  the  window,  stretching  appeal- 
ingly  its  white  arms  for  aid.  My  imagination  fol- 
lowed it  within  the  shroud  of  fire  and  smoke,  and 
saw  it  rushing  hither  and  thither,  and  at  length  fall- 
ing, suffocated  by  the  pitiless  flames.  I  saw  con- 
stantly the  shuddering,  writhing  form,  and  my  ears 
rang  with  its  shrieks  of  anguish. 


A  Dream,  and  how  it  was  Fulfilled.        223 

It  was  scarcely  more  than  four  hours — as  I  after- 
ward learned — from  the  time  that  I  started,  that  I 
found  myself  entering  the  gorge  at  whose  termina- 
tion was  visible  the  residence  of  Hermance.  I  recog- 
nized the  features  of  the  stream,  the  banks,  and  the 
narrowing  valley,  exactly  as  they  appeared  in  my 
dream  the  night  before.  In  another  moment  I  should 
have  before  me  the  blackened  ruins  of  the  farm- 
house and  my  soul  reeled  as  I  anticipated  the  first 
view  of  the  desolation,  and  the  subsequent  revela- 
tions of  its  horrors.  The  road  was  filled  with  hoof- 
marks,  and  the  water  still  lay  on  the  stones  and 
sand  where  it  had  been  splashed  by  the  passing  ani- 
mals. The  next  instant,  dashing  across  the  stream, 
I  rounded  the  abutment  of  the  gorge,  and,  with  a 
shudder  of  apprehension,  turned  my  eyes  to  the  rise 
beyond  me. 

It  was  a  beautiful  September  day.  The  air  was 
pure  as  crystal,  save  where  delicate  forms  of  smoke 
drifted  along  or  reclined  upon  the  horizon.  Beyond 
a  peach  orchard  lay  the  brown  farm-house,  and 
around  it  clusters  of  negro  cottages.  From  its  chim- 
ney there  curled,  peacefully  and  lazily,  a  light-blue 
smoke.  Some  negro  children  and  dogs  gamboled 
among  the  trees.  Quiet,  peace,  beauty,  reigned 
over  the  scene, 

There  were  no  smoking  ruins — no  desolation.  The 
farm-house  with  its  patriarchal  and  sylvan  surround- 
ings, slept  as  peacefully  under  the  autumn  sunlight 
as  if  it  had  been  located  among  the  Isles  of  the 
Blessed. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  relate  the  surprise  occa-. 
sioned  by  my  appearance;  my  explanations,  and  the 
chagrin  of  my  friend  over  the  ruin  of  his  blooded 
saddle-horse,  I  will  merely  state  in  this  connection, 


224  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

that  there  had  been  no  alarm  from  any  source  since 
my  departure. 

I  have  only  to  add  that,  two  or  three  days  later, 
among  some  captures  made  during  a  cavalry  expedi- 
tion, was  that  of  this  same  one-armed  guerrilla  and 
several  of  his  companions.  He  was  brought  to  the 
city,  and,  inspired  by  curiosity,  I  resolved  to  see  this 
terrible  bandit.  I  readily  obtained  admission  to  a 
position  where  I  could  see  him  as  he  traversed  the 
corridor  of  the  prison. 

To  my  intense  surprise,  I  found  before  me  the  fac 
simile  of  my  dream.  There  were  the  same  long, 
unkempt  locks,  falling  over  the  collar  of  the  gray 
coat;  the  same  enormous  beard,  stalwart  form, 
broad  shoulders,  and  arm  missing  between  elbow 
and  body. 

I  entered  into  conversation  with  him;  and  he  was 
garrulous  and  boastful  in  relating  what  he  had  done, 
and  what  he  had  designed  doing.  Among  other 
things,  he  said: 

"  I  had  a  nice  thing  on  hand  a  day  or  two  before 
I  was  picked  up.  I  had  heard  that  there  was  a  pay- 
master at  T.,  and  I  intended  to  go  for  him.  The 
night  before  I  intended  to  take  the  town,  I  was  in 
camp  at  R.  In  the  morning,  I  found  that  a  fellow 
in  the  Government  service,  who  had  just  come  from 
T.,  and  who  had  staid  all  night  at  R,  had  left  be- 
fore daylight  and  gone  back  to  T.  I  suppose  he  had 
found  out  some  how  that  I  was  around,  and  what  I 
meant,  and  had  gone  back  to  head  me  off.  Any- 
how, I  thought  I  wouldn't  go  that  time. 

"You  are  acquainted  at  T.,  are  you?  Well,  if 
you  know  a  man  there  by  the  name  of  Hermance, 
just  give  him  my  compliments,  and  tell  him,  if  I 
ever  get  out  of  this,  I  want  some  of  his  horses.  He's 


A  Dream,  and  how  it  was  Fulfilled.        225 

got  some  of  the  best  stock  this  side  of  h — 11.  And 
tell  him,  too,  that  when  I  come  after  his  horses,  I'll 
just  take  his  scalp,  for  I've  heard  that  he's  been 
playing  double.  I  meant,  when  I  went  for  the 
paymaster  at  T.,  to  give  Hermance  a  call;  but  the 
thing  will  keep,  and  I'll  drop  on  him  some  other 
time." 


GETTING  A  DRINK  UNDER  DIFFICUL- 
TIES. 

:AKEherup!" 
"I'm  alone!" 
"Pass!" 

Yes,  'pass;'  that's  the  word.     Just  pass 
that  pocket  ordnance,  will  you?" 

I  was  the  last  speaker.  My  vis-a-vis  on  the 
car  seat  laid  down  his  'lone  hand — both  bowers, 
queen,  and  seven-spot — reaching  into  the  breast- 
pocket of  his  overcoat,  and  hauled  out  a  big-bellied 
pocket-pistol.  Unscrewing  the  metal  cap,  I  inhaled 
the  delicious  aroma  of  some  S.  O.  P.  After  giving 
the  sense  of  smell  an  opportunity,  as  it  were,  to 
take  a  drink,  I  applied  one  end  of  the  flask  to  my 
mouth,  and  slowly  elevated  the  other. 

A  thin  stream  of  the  electric  nectar  had  began  to 
crawl  lazily  throatward  over  my  tongue;  the  thril- 
ling intelligence  of  a  coming  drink  had  just  begun 
to  be  telegraphed  from  the  nerves  of  the  mouth  to 
other  portions  of  the  system;  stomach,  brain,  ex- 
tremities, were  beginning  to  thrill  with  anticipated 
bliss  over  the  expected  libation — when 

I  regret,  even  at  this  distant  moment,  to  say  that 
I  never  took  that  drink. 

Raising  my  eyes  with  somewhat  of  that  instinct- 
ive thankfulness  which  animates  a  chicken  when  it 


Getting  a  Drink  under  Difficulties.         227 

takes  a  sip  of  cooling  water,  I  happened  to  glance 
out  the  car  window. 

"  Good  heaven,  Tom !  There's  the  old  man 
Marsh ! " 

The  S.  O.  P.,  that  had  began  to  trip,  like  a  nup- 
tial march,  across  my  tongue,  was  suddenly  inter- 
rupted. Down  went  the  flask,  and,  a  second  later,  I 
was  occupying  a  seat  on  the  other  side  of  the  car, 
and  was  engaged  in  solemnly  gazing  out  of  the 
window  upon  the  waste  of  snow  that  stretched  away 
to  the  horizon. 

This  promising  drink  was  not  taken,  this  change 
of  seats  was  made,  because  I  happened  to  see  a 
portly  old  gentleman,  with  a  double  chin,  a  cane,  a 
rheumatic  limb  011  one  side,  and  a  not  fashionable 
stove-pipe  hat,  walking  along  toward  the  car  in 
which  we  sat. 

This  was  the  old  man  Marsh  who  had  spoiled  my 
drink.  \ 

Who  was  the  old  man  Marsh? 

Mr.  John  Marsh  was  a  lumber-merchant  who  lived 
not  a  thousand  miles  from  Chicago.  He  was  well 
to  do.  He  had  a  pinery  in  Wisconsin,  rafts  on  the 
Mississippi  in  summer,  and  lumber-yards  all  over 
Iowa  and  Wisconsin,  the  year  round.  What  was  of 
more  importance  to  me,  he  had  a  daughter. 

A  young  woman,  with  a  fine  form,  a  peachy 
bloom  on  her  cheeks,  and  eyes  like  black  diamonds. 
I  had  met  this  young  lady,  and  her  motto,  hence- 
forth, in  my  case,  was:  veni,  vidi,  vici. 

Just  then  out  of  college,  and  embarked  in  a  liter- 
ary career,  I  was  somewhat  given  to  look  upon  the 
wine  when  it  was  red,  and  the  accomplishment  of 
tasting  it.  It  seemed  to  agree  with  me. 


228  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

Now,  if  Mr.  John  Marsh  loved  any  thing  next  to 
his  daughter  and  a  good  lumber  season,  it  was  the 
virtue  of  total  abstinence.  A  young  man  who  in- 
dulged in  the  flowing  bowl  was  to  him  a  good  deal 
worse  than  a  broken  raft  with  no  insurance,  or  any 
other  unmitigated  evil. 

I  had  just  commenced  publishing  a  daily  news- 
paper in  Davenport,  Iowa.  On  the  morning  of 
that  particular  day  there  had  come  to  me  from 
Chicago  a  harum-scarum  youth,  to  his  intimates 
known  as  Tom  Meeley.  Tom  was  just  from  Cam- 
bridge, and  was  reading  law  with  a  Chicago 
Blackstone.  Tom  intermitted  the  study  of  law  with 
practice  at  the  bar.  He  was  a  heavy  practitioner 
for  a  young  one. 

Since  then,  he  has  gone  into  short-hand  and  extra 
mural  gardening,  and  he  doesn't  do  as  much  of  the 
bar  practice  as  he  did. 

On  that  Christmas  morning  of  December,  1856, 
Tom  had  induced  me  to  take  a  run  over  to  Iowa 
City.  The  Legislature  was  in  session;  things  were 
lively  at  the  capitol;  and  fun  was  reasonably  to  be 
anticipated. 

Taking  along  two  flasks  of  liquid  refreshments, 
two  other  young  men  to  make  up  a  euchre  party, 
and  a  pack  of  cards,  we  took  the  morning  train. 

At  the  very  first  station  after  leaving  Davenport, 
had  occurred  what  I  have  above  alluded  to. 

I  was  very  thirsty.  I  had  not  wet  my  lips  that 
morning;  and  was  preparing  for  what  my  friend 
Mort.  terms  "an  Enormous  drink,"  when  Mr.  John 
Marsh  passed  across  my  line  of  vision. 

A  minute  or  two  later,  the  portly  form  of  the  old 
gentleman  filled  two-thirds  of  the  seat  which  I  oc- 
cupied. 


Getting  a  Drink  under  Difficulties.          229 

He  was  glad  to  see  me.  Had  been  to  see  about 
a  lumber  bill,  at  the  place  where  he  got  on,  and  was 
going  to  Iowa  City,  to  see  about  some  more  lumber 
bills. 

I  inquired  respectfully  about  the  health  of  his 
amiable  self.  Then  about  that  of  his  respected  wife. 
Then  about  the  lumber  business.  Then  about  a  re- 
ligious revival  in  his  town.  Finally  about  the  fair 
Harriet.  The  latter  query  elicited  only  a  senten- 
tious reply — "Oh!  she's  well." 

En  passant,  there  had  come  rumors  to  that  good 
old  man's  ears  that  I  was  a  trifle  given  to  a  habit 
which  all  Good  Templars  look  upon  with  religious 
abhorrence.  Therefore  had  he  not  been  overwhelm- 
ingly enthusiastic  in  such  slight  advances  as  I  had 
made  in  the  direction  of  the  gentle,  young  Harriet. 

Therefore  did  he  a  trifle  abridge  his  reply  when, 
after  inquiring  after  sixty -five  other  things,  I  ven- 
tured to  inquire  after  a  certain  old  man's  daughter. 

Meanwhile,  my  late  companions  were  luxuriously 
engaged.  Tom,  who  knew  my  reasons  for  leaving 
the  party,  had  imposed  non-intercourse  upon  the 
others.  They  shuffled,  cut,  dealt,  went  it  alone,  told 
riproarious  stories,  and  shamelessly  took  drinks  the 
while. 

Especially  did  they  aggravate  me — who  was  so 
thirsty — by  nodding  at  me  when  I  looked,  and  when 
my  companion  wasn't  looking,  then  reversing  their 
flask,  and  letting  me  hear,  the  musical  gushing  of 
what  was  as  much  denied  me  as  the  cup  to  Tanta- 
lus. 

"  Isn't  it  terrible  that  young  men  should  act  so?" 
said  my  venerable  companion,  indicating,  with  a 
jerk  of  his  head,  the  party  across  the  way.  He 
looked  searchingly  into  my  face  for  my  reply. 


230  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

"'Terrible!'  Oh,  yes!  It  is  terrible!  My  heart 
bleeds  when  I  see  young  men  thus  wasting  the 
golden  opportunity  of  youth,  and  indulging  in  prac- 
tices which  must  terminate  in  disaster,  disgrace  and 
ruin!" 

The  face  of  Mr.  John  Marsh  at  once  assumed  a 
changed  expression.  He  seemed  suddenly  to  think 
more  of  me.  We  talked  of  how  wicked  are  wicked 
men,  and  how  good  are  good  men.  He  even  told 
me  something  about  Harriet. 

t    '       •  -i|r  £  41  Jt  41    '     ~~£  4 

We  were  all  in  the  hotel  at  Iowa  City.  It  was 
nearly  bed-time.  The  old  gentleman  had  taken  a 
wonderful  fancy  to  me.  He  had  even  insisted  that 
we  should  occupy  a  double-bedded  room. 

He  had  not  left  me  a  moment  after  the  arrival  of 
the  train.  I  had  introduced  him  to  some  of  the 
State  officials.  He  had  invited  me  to  a  plate  of 
oysters  with  him. 

He  felt  toward  me  like  a  fa-ther-in-law. 

Meanwhile  I  was  thirsty  to  distraction.  It  was  a 
nipping  day;  and  there  came  from  the  subterranean 
recesses  of  the  hotel  an  aroma  of  hot  punch  that 
was  maddening  as  a  fat  beef -steak  two  inches  be- 
yond the  nose  of  a  chained  bull-dog.  With  the 
aroma  there  ascended  the  sound  of  song  and  laugh- 
ter. 

I  was  getting  to  be  insane.  I  heard  Tom's  voice. 
I  knew  what  was  occurring.  I  felt  the  glow  of  the 
hot  stove — inhaled  the  fragrance  of  the  steaming 
punch;  I  felt  it  thrill  me  like  a  shock  of  bliss — all 
in  imagination. 

Mr.  John  Marsh  never  quitted  me  for  a  moment. 
We  talked  business,  politics,  morality,  religion,  and 


Getting  a  Drink  under  Difficulties.          n°l 

the  benefits  of  a  virtuous  life.  He  requested  me, 
just  before  bed-time,  to  wait  while  he  wrote  home  a 
note. 

I  afterwards  saw  the  postscript  to  the  note.  Here 
it  is: 

•'Tell  Harriet  I  have  met  Mr. .     I  like  him  very  much. 

The  reports  about  his  dissipation  are  false.  He  is  one  of  the 
steadiest,  most  serious,  and  promising  young  men  I  know.  I 
have*  no  further  objection  to  her  receiving  his  attentions." 

Ten  minutes  later,  this  inflexible  old  man  had 
hauled  me  off  to  bed.  I  went  as  a  hungry  epicure 
would  leave  untasted  a  superb  dinner  to  go  fifteen 
miles  through  snow-drifts  to  visit  a  sick  neighbor 
down  with  the  measles. 

A  lemon-y  odor,  and  a  roaring  old  chorus  of 

"  We  won't  go  home  till  morning." 

were  the  last  thing  that  I  smelled  and  heard  as  we 
entered  our  room  and  shut  the  door. 

It  was  maddening.  I  thought  of  rebelling.  Then 
I  thought  of  t^e  peach-cheeked  Harriet.  And  then 
I  thought  I  wouldn't.  I  crawled  into  bed,  wonder- 
ing what  the  d — 1  old  Tantalus  would  think,  provid- 
ing he  was  placed  where  I  was. 

Suddenly  a  bright  idea  struck  me.  I  would  have 
just  one  punch,  anyhow.  The  old  gentleman  was 
in  bed,  and  couldn't  smell  my  breath.  A  plan!  A 
plan!  Eureka! 

"Oh,  Lord!  Oh!  Oh!    Oh!" 

"  What  is  it?"  came  in  an  alarmed  tone  from  my 
companion's  bed. 

"Oh,  my!  Oh,  dear!  such  a  pain!  Oh,  oh!  oo — 
oo — oo!" 

He  offered  to  get  up,  and  go  for  a  doctor.      He 


232  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

was  confoundedly  willing  and  most  infernally  sym- 
pathetic. 

"No,  my — oh! — dear  sir.  No — oh — oh!  Don't 
disturb  yourself.  Only — oh! — oh! — a  sudden  spasm. 
All  I  need — oh!  is  a  little  camphor  or  something!" 

I  slid  into  my  garments,  and  went  off  groaning 
like  an  overladen  freight  locomotive,  promising  to 
return  in  a  few  minutes. 

As  the  door  closed  on  me,  the  spiced  gales  from 
below  struck  my  sense  of  smell  as  the  sight  of  water 
greets  the  sight  of  one  who  is  dying  from  thirst. 
Following  my  nose  as  one  might  push  in  the  teeth 
of  a  stiff  breeze,  I  pursued  the  aroma  till  it  brought 
me  to  the  depths  below. 

A  warm  smell  of  sawdust,  the  pervading  fragrance 
of  lemon  and  Scotch  whisky,  the  sight  of  Tom  .and 
three  others  sitting  about  a  table  with  steaming 
punch  pitchers  before  them,  were  what  greeted  my 
nostrils  and  eyes  as  I  entered  the  hall  of  the  sym- 
posium. 

There  was  a  roar  of  delight  at  my  appearance. 

"A  punch,  quick,  boys  !" 

Some  two  or  three  minutes  were  consumed  in 
mixing.  I  whetted  my  senses  with  the  steaming 
fragrance.  I  was  overwhelmed  with  questions. 
The  boys  sang,  roared,  questioned,  drank.  I  an- 
swered as  I  could,  and,  between  the  while,  thun- 
dered at  the  boy: 

"Quick,  for  your  life,  and  as  strong  as  light- 
ning! " 

It  came — hot,  aromatic,  penetrating,  promising. 
I  poured  it  into  a  goblet. 

"  A  toast !  a  toast ! "  roared  the  red-faced  bac- 
chantes. 


Getting  a  Drink  under  Difficulties.         233 

"  Up,  then,  to  your  feet,"  said  I.  "  Fill  to  your 
brims.  Here's  to  the  sweetest  young  woman  on  the 
footstool,  and  to  myself,  her  future  husband,  and  to 
the  oldest  result  thereof,  whose  name  shall  be  — 

' '  I  stopped  petrified.  The  sentence  was  never 
finished.  I  was  facing  the  entrance  while  speak- 
ing. The  door  was  slowly  opened  and  there  entered 


Mr.  John  Marsh  ! ! 

The  countenance  of  that  venerable  old  statue  in 
the  doorway  will  haunt  me  to  the  end  of  my  time. 

Sometime  after  this  tremendous  occurrence,  I  saw 
a  letter  written  on  the  26th  of  December,  1856,  and 
dated  at  Iowa  City.  It  had  a  P.  S.,  which  read  as 
follows: 

"  Tell  Harriet  I  have  since  altered  my  mind  about .  I  for- 
bid her  having  any  thing  to  do  with  him.  He  is  a  dissipated, 
shameless  young  man.  I  caught  him  in  the  very  act  of  drinking, 
after  having  deceived  me  ivost  abominably.  And,  to  crown  it 
all,  he  had  the  unblushing  impudence  to  ask  me  to  take  a  hot 
whisky  to  the  health  of  his  future  father-in-law." 

This  letter  was  signed,  "  Your  Husband,  J. 
Marsh." 

I  have  only  to  add  that,  some  time  after,  I  did 
marry  a  woman  with  diamond-black  eyes,  a  peachy 
complexion,  and  whose  name  is  Harriet. 

How,  and  through  what  tremendous  labors,  this 
was  accomplished,  inattereth  not. 


A  MORAL  COUNTRY  PLACE,  AND  ITS 
PEOPLE. 

'EN — that  is,   men  who  labor — are  bows, 
and  their  purposes  are  their  arrows.  Bows 
which  shoot  often,  necessarily  are  bent  a 
good  deal.     It  is  a  good  plan  to  take  off  the 
string  occasionally,  and  hang  them  up  in 
the  sun  to  regain  elasticity. 

Sagittarius  is  a  citizen  who  has  been  in  the 
bow  business  for  some  time.  He  became  much  bent 
in  consequence.  His  arrows  went  feebly,  and 
dropped  short  of  the  mark.  Sometimes  they  hit, 
but  fell  back  harmlessly.  Sagittarius  was  losing 
his  springiness;  his  string  gave  no  metallic  twang, 
but  hung  rather  limp  and  loose.  And  so  Sagittarius 
took  off  his  string,  and  took  himself  into  the  coun- 
try. 

The  country  is  a  good  thing.  It  evolves  the  mys- 
teries of  growth.  In  its  elements  of  growth  there 
are  collateral  elements  of  strength  and  recupera- 
tion. It  has  a  surplussage  of  forces  which  are  not 
needed  in  production,  and  which  communicate 
themselves  by  contact,  as  the  steel  takes  magnetism 
from  the  loadstone.  These  recuperative  forces  can 
not  be  bottled  and  transported.  They  must  be 
smelled,  and  tasted,  and  felt  at  their  places  of 
origin.  One  can  not  bring  sunlight  into  a  closed 
room.  He  must  go  where  the  sunshine  is.  It  will 


A  Moral  Country  Place  and  its  People.      235 

not  come  to  him.  It  can  not  be  carried  in  his  car- 
pet-sack, like  a  bottle  of  bitters.  And  so  of  all  the 
other  forces.  The  perfume  will  not  leave  its  birth- 
place in  the  flower. 

Being  a  thrifty  health-seeker,  Sagittarius  avoided 
Saratoga,  the  Beach,  and  the  White  Mountains. 
Seeking  a  point  where  there  is  a  union  of  the  mini- 
mum of  men  and  the  maximum  of  nature,  he  be- 
took himself  to  Ramengo.  There  are  a  railroad,  a 
postoffice,  a  few  churches,  and  a  good  deal  of  prairie 
at  Ramengo.  Around  it  are  broad  wheat-fields  in 
brown  stubble,  and  corn-fields  green  as  an  array  of 
Fenians.  Belts  of  timber  straggle  forward  from  or 
disappear  in  the  distance.  Little  groves  of  scrub 
oak  dot  the  emerald  prairie.  There  is  a  tinkle  of. 
cow-bells  about  the  town;  and  here  and  there  may 
be  seen  masses  of  brown,  and  black  and  white, 
which  closer  inspection  resolves  into  browsing  cat- 
tle; and  the  whitey-brown  piles  at  intervals  are 
known  by  the  initiated  to  be  sheep. 

Such  are  some  of  the  surroundings  of  Ramengo,  as 
they  revealed  themselves  to  Sagittarius  when  he 
alighted  at  the  depot.  There  were  some  people 
around  the  depot.  They  are  the  same  people  that 
Sagittarius  has  seen  all  his  life  at  every  railroad  de- 
pot. They  seemed  detailed  for  depot  service,  and,  by 
some  singular  means,  they  transport  themselves  from 
one  depot  to  another,  and  always  get  to 'one  just  be- 
fore the  train.  There  is  one  short,  thick-set  man, 
who  rushes  up  with  a  canvas  mail-bag,  which  a  man 
with  a  pencil  behind  his  ear  takes  into  the  car,  and 
at  the  same  time  hands  out  another  which  is  the 
twin  brother  of  the  other.  There  is  a  man  with 
large  boots,  who  puts  an  old  hair-covered  trunk  on 
the  train,  and  takes  off  another  hair-covered  trunk, 


236  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

which  looks  like  an  elderly  cousin  of  the  one  just 
starting  out.  There  are  two  young  women,  who 
chew  the  end  of  their  parasols,  and  who  always  ex- 
amine the  train  as  if  they  expected  their  long-ab- 
sent uncle.  These  two  young  women  have  dresses 
of  rather  loud  colors.  They  gaze  bashfully  at  the 
grimy  faces  in  the  car-windows;  and  sometimes, 
when  some  one  stares  at  them  rather  impudently, 
they  turn  aside  and  remark  to  each  other  confiden- 
tially something  which  sounds  like  "  Te,  he!"  There 
is  the  ex-veteran,  or  rather  a  sore-eyed  ancient  in  a 
cavalry  coat,  which  you  suspect  may  have  been  a 
donation.  There  is  an  African  who  suns  himself 
upon  an  adjacent  fence;  and  two  young  men  with 
very  large  feet,  and  enormously  long  legs,  and  ex- 
ceedingly round  shoulders,  who  stare  open-mouthed 
into  the  car- windows,  and  then  proceed  to  "make 
game"  of  the  tired-looking  "  city  feller"  that  gets 
off  from  the  train.  There  are  a  burly  cart-man, 
with  a  sleepy  horse,  and  a  half-dozen  boys,  who,  in 
all  variety  of  costume,  chase  each  other  across  the 
car-platforms,  in  and  out  the  depot,  or  across  the 
track  in  front  of  the  engine.  There  is  also  the  in- 
evitable one-legged  individual,  and  close  by  him 
are  two  dogs,  which  inspect  each  other  with  tails 
stiff  as  ramrods,  and  many  growls. 

This  saw  Sagittarius  at  Ramengo.  A  pretty,  blue- 
eyed  young  woman  revealed  herself  through  the 
open  door  of  the  depot.  Her  fingers  were  busily 
clicking  some  notes  on  that  collection  of  coils,  and 
magnets,  and  acids  known  as  "the  instrument." 
Such  fingers  should  hold  converse  only  with  the 
strings  of  harps  ;  they  were  now  sending  an  order 
for  butter,  or  giving  information  as  to  the  supply  of 
eggs.  It  must  be  heavenly  for  a  woman  to  be  a  tel- 


A  Moral  Country  Place  and  its  People.       237 

egraph  operator,  for  then  she  will  come  in  possession 
of  so  many  secrets.  And  yet  it  must  be  torture  for 
a  woman  to  be  a  telegraph  operator,  for  then  she 
will  know  a  thousand  things  which  she  cannot  tell 
to  any  other  woman. 

Ramengo  is  an  interior  town,  and  resembles  more 
i  or  less  several  hundred  other  interior  Western  towns 
of  the  same  size.  There  is  one  street,  upon  which 
are  all  the  shops  and  places  of  business.  There  are 
some  cross  and  side-streets,  upon  which  live  the  in- 
habitants. In  front  of  each  store  is  a  hitching  post, 
half  gnawed  in  two  by  nibbling  horses.  Occasion- 
ally there  is  a  wooden  awning.  The  buildings  are 
mainly  of  wood,  one  story  in  height,  with  a  high 
false  front  to  make  them  look  like  several  stories. 

Ramengo  prides  itself  upon  being  a  most  extra- 
ordinary moral  place.  It  sums  its  virtues  up  in  three 
propositions,  to-wit: 

I.  There  are  no  billiard  tables  in  the  place. 

II.  There  are  no  whisky  or  beer  saloons  in  the 
place. 

III.  There  is  no  rebel  paper  taken  in  the  place. 
Such  a  high  state  of  morality  in  so  wicked  an  age 

greatly  surprised  Sagittarius.  He  marveled  at  the 
moral  proficiency  of  the  people.  He  debated  within 
himself  whether  or  no  the  millennium  had  not 
arrived  and  settled  at  Ramengo.  He  saw  almost  as 
many  churches  in  town  as  there  were  other  houses. 
The  countenances  of  the  men  wore  a  look  of  high 
devotion.  The  women  appeared  saint-like,  as  if 
they  had  made  up  their  minds  that  this  is  a  very 
wicked  world  outside  of  Ramengo. 

Ramengo  is  prolific  in  children.  There  are  mul- 
titudes on  the  streets;  and  the  few  doctors  are  hard- 
worked  to  attend  to  all  the  new  arrivals.  Every 


238  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

other  man  met  by  Sagittarius  was  in  a  tremendous 
hurry,  and  Sagittarius  soon  learned  that  he  was 
going  for  the  family  physician.  In  the  contour  of 
the  married  ladies  on  the  streets,  or  elsewhere,  the 
parabole  abounded. 

The  rising  generation  on  Ramengo  did  not  strike 
the  observing  Sagittarius  as  sharing  fully  the  high 
moral  superiority  of  their  anti  -  billiard  -  table, 
anti-whisky-saloon,  anti-copperhead  progenitors. 
These  young  people — those  of  the  masculine  sex — 
are  given  to  much  irreligious  and  unsaint-like  con- 
duct. They  are  disposed  to  haunt  the  single  street 
of  Ramengo  at  all  times,  and  in  endless  quantities. 
A  young  man  promenading  with  a  young  woman 
affords  the  young  Ramengoans  an  opportunity  for 
much  unseemly  converse  designed  for  the  benefit  of 
the  promenading  two.  An  innocent  and  verdant 
stranger  from  the  wilds  of  Chicago  or  New  York, 
finds  himself  the  object  of  much  hilarious  and  not 
altogether  complimentary  comment  among  these 
youthful  observers.  The  young  of  the  godly  people 
of  Ramengo  are  prone  to  blasphemy.  They  are  dis- 
posed to  oaths  whose  length  and  frequency  would 
excite  the  envy  of  a  veteran  pirate.  Sagittarius 
heard  and  saw  all  these  things,  and  he  reflected 
with  pious  joy  that,  whatever  else  these  sons  of 
pious  sires  were  guilty  of,  they  had  not  at  least  to 
answer  for  the  greater  sin  of  reading  rebel  litera- 
ture. 

It  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  sit  under  the  awning  and 
watch  the  ebb  and  flow  of  country  life.  All  day 
long,  teams  come  and  go,  as  the  farmers  enter  upon 
or  depart  from  trading  expeditions.  The  farmer's 
rig  is  about  the  same  everywhere.  There  are  a  stout, 
substantial  vehicle,  and  two  sturdy  horses.  They 


A  Moral  Country  Place  and  its  People.        239 

always  come  around  the  corner,  and  up  to  the  store- 
front, at  tremendous  speed.  If  one  walk  a  little  out 
of  town,  he  will  see  the  horses  coming  in  at  the 
slowest  of  walks.  Their  heads  droop,  and  the  reins 
hang  loosely.  Suddenly,  as  the  suburbs  are  entered, 
the  reins  are  pulled  taut,  the  drooping  heads  jerked 
high  in  the  air;  there  is  a  lash  or  two  of  the  whip, 
and  in  an  instant  the  whole  concern  is  tearing 
through  the  streets  like  a  crazy  locomotive.  Coming 
out  the  thing  is  reversed.  Away  goes  the  vehicle 
as  if  life  or  death  depended  upon  short  time  and 
long  distance.  It  disappears  in  a  cloud  of  dust 
around  the  corner.  If  you  walk  leisurely  after  it, 
you  will  be  in  ample  time,  a  half  hour  after,  to  see 
it  crossing  the  prairie  as  unhurriedly  as  if  drawn  by 
a  snail. 

Sometimes  the  old  man  drives,  and  sometimes  the 
young  man.  The  rest  of  the  road  is,  however  inva- 
riable. There  are  always  the  feminine  head  of  the 
family,  a  lady  of  about  forty  years;  a  young  woman 
of  about  seventeen,  who  jumps  from  the  tall  wagon 
without  assistance,  and  wears  her  back  hair  caught 
up  in  a  net;  and  a  boy  of  about  ten  or  twelve,  who 
attends  to  the  wagon  and  looks  sulkily  at  the  town 
boys.  There  is  likewise  a  dog,  which,  if  a  young 
dog,  starts  out  for  a  social  chat  with  his  city 
cousins,  and  very  soon  comes  back,  having  been 
badly  thrashed  by  a  bull-dog,  half  a  dozen  curs,  and 
a  few  terriers.  If  an  old  dog,  he  gets  in  the  wagon, 
and  growls  ferociously  at  the  slightest  approach  to 
familiarity  on  the  part  of  town  people. 

Close  traders  are  these  farmers  and  their  wives. 
They  bring  in  usually  a  pail  of  butter  or  a  box  of 
eggs,  and  long  is  the  battle  for  the  highest  buying 
and  lowest  selling  figure.  The  old  lady  looks  at  the, 


240  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

cotton  cloths  and  the  jeans;  and  the  young  lady 
prices  the  parasols,  perfumery  and  back-combs. 
Sagittarius  saw  one  sharp-eyed  matron  follow  the 
clerk  in  his  figuring  up  a  bill  of  goods,  and  pour 
hogsheads  of  wrath  upon  his  devoted  head  because 
he  charged  ten  cents  for  a  paper  of  pins,  when 
Jones,  over  the  way,  would  sell  her  the  same  pins 
for  eight  cents. 

There  was  a  grand  excitement  in  Ramengo  the 
day  before  the  arrival  of  Sagittarius.  A  bold  thief 
had  broken  into  the  single  jeweler's  shop  in  town, 
and  had  carried  off  two  silver  watches.  Daylight 
revealed  the  theft,  and  dire  was  the  confusion 
throughout  Ramengo.  All  the  day  long  men  gath- 
ered in  knots  and  discussed  the  event.  The  jeweler 
was  the  hero  of  the  day.  Wherever  he  moved  eager 
crowds  surrounded  him,  and  heard  with  open  ears 
the  recital  of  the  dread  event.  Telegrams  were  sent 
east  and  west,  and  towards  night  came  the  astound- 
ing intelligence  that  the  desperado  had  been  cap- 
tured at  a  neighboring  town.  All  the  place  vibrated 
to  the  intelligence,  and  by  the  next  train  the  jeweler 
started  to  secure  his  property  and  the  thief. 

Train  after  train  came  in  from  the  east,  and  there 
came  no  jeweler,  no  thief,  no  booty.  The  crowds 
which  attended  each  arrival  of  the  train  began  to 
become  uneasy.  By-and-by,  like  the  first  rumors  of 
a  battle,  there  came  whispers  that  the  burglar  had 
escaped.  The  appalling  suggestion  grew  each  hour 
more  like  a  fact.  Then  it  became  a  certainty;  and, 
after  a  while,  the  jeweler  himself  returned  without 
the  thief.  He  had  seen  the  thief;  he  had  gotten  one 
of  the  watches  and  $50;  but  the  murderous  delin- 
quent, entrusted  to  other  hands,  had  mysteriously 
disappeared. 


A  Moral  Country  Place  and  its  People.        241 

Startling  and  tremendous  was  this  intelligence  to 
Ramengo.  Ramengo  gathered  in  knots  to  talk  the 
affair  over.  Men  hallooed  questions  across  the 
streets,  or  repeated  some  particular  from  their  store 
doors  to  the  other  men  passing  in  wagons.  Young 
Ramengo  discussed  the  affair  with  a  large  season- 
ing of  very  pungent  profanity.  Those  who  heard 
the  particulars  from  the  jeweler  repeated  them  to 
others,  and  they  to  still  others;  and  so  the  news  cir- 
cled outward  like  waters  receding  from  the  buffet 
of  a  stone. 

Many  were  the  theories  as  to  the  escape  of  the 
culprit.  Some  fiercely  held  to  one  opinion,  and 
some  to  another.  The  favorite  opinion  was,  that 
the  burglar  was  a  Freemason,  and  that  he  had 
escaped  through  the  aid  of  the  craft.  This  led  to 
hot  discussions  upon  Morgan,  and  the  enormity  of  a 
concern  which  shields  murderers,  burglars,  and 
horse-thieves  from  the  clutches  of  the  law.  The 
Ramengoans  have  not  traveled  much.  Most  of 
them  have  traveled  from  New  England  westward. 
But  few  have  ever  traveled  to  the  East.  Hence, 
many  things. 

Going  to  church  on  Sunday  in  the  country,  is  an 
institution.  Early  in  the  morning,  two-horse  wagons, 
loaded  down  to  the  guards,  begin  to  enter  town. 
These  loads  are  not  dissimilar.  Three  generations 
are  usually  represented.  There  is  the  old  gentle- 
man, and  sometimes  his  wife.  His  hair  is  gray  and 
thin;  his  form  attenuated  and  bowed;  his  fingers 
long,  hooked,  and  skinny.  Then  there  is  the  old 
man's  son.  He  is  broad-shouldered,  sun-browned, 
and  tough.  Beside  him,  is  his  wife.  She,  too,  is 
brown;  and  her  half-mits  reveal  strong,  thick  fingers. 
There  are  also  the  oldest  girl,  and  a  smaller  girl,  and 


242  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

from  two  to  five  boys,  with  long,  thick  hair,  brown 
faces,  and  a  general  appearance  of  being  a  good  deal 
cramped  in  their  Sunday  clothes.  The  ancient  looks 
absent-minded,  somewhat  as  if  intelligence  were 
taking  its  insignia  from  his  countenance,  and  leav- 
ing in  place  of  them  a  wrinkled  expressionless  piece  of 
sole-leather.  The  younger  ones  look  rather  defiant, 
as  if,  in  coming  into  town,  they  had  gotten  into  a 
hostile  country  and  did  not  propose  to  be  victimized 
without  a  fight.  The  horses  look  sometimes  as  if 
they  had  tried  to  get  through  a  small  hole,  and  had 
only  succeeded  in  pushing  their  viscera  pretty  well 
back,  where  they  had  remained.  They  are  small  at 
the  neck,  and  grow  constantly  larger  towards  their 
tails.  A  young  colt  or  two  usually  trots  alongside, 
and  -appears  sublimely  unconscious  of  the  future, 
with  its  horse-collars,  its  plows,  reapers,  and  long 
journey 

The  church  itself  is  not  quite  a  cathedral.  Coun- 
try teams  are  fastened  to  all  the  neighboring  fences, 
and  they  have  torn  up  the  grass  where  they  stamp 
the  tormenting  flies.  There  is  a  back  gallery  where 
the  singers  set,  and  in  their  midst  is  an  asthmatic, 
but  ambitious,  little  melodeon.  There  are  always  a 
pretty  girl  or  two  in  the  choir,  and  a  rather  romantic- 
looking  young  man  who  sings  tenor.  Somehow, 
ladies  have  a  weakness  for  tenor-singers.  The 
tenor  knows  it,  and  he  affects  melancholy  and  a  thril- 
ling tendency  to  early  decay. 

Sagittarius  attended  one  of  the  churches  in  Ra- 
mengo.  He  found  the  same  audience  collected 
there  that  he  had  seen  when  he  was  a  boy  and  went 
to  church.  There  was  the  same  anxious  mother, 
dividing  her  time  between  the  sermon  and  little  boy 
who  would  get  up  and  lie  down,  and  who  wanted 


A  Moral  Country  Place  and  its  People.        243 

cake,  and  who  ocasionally  got  on  his  knees  and 
stared  vigorously  and  persistently  into  the  face  of  the 
young  women  behind.  The  same  dog  came  up  the 
aisle,  looking  into  all  the  seats  for  its  owner,  and, 
by  its  puzzled  expression,  afforded  cause  for  much 
suppressed  chuckling  to  the  small-sized  boys.  The 
same  old  gentleman  sat  on  the  same  front  seat,  and 
stared  with  dropped  jaw,  and  wiped  his  rheumy  old 
eyes  with  the  same  old,  striped-silk  pocket-handker- 
chief. The  same  farmer  sat  in  the  same  seat,  and 
slept  all  through  the  sermon,  and  woke  up  and 
looked  around  at  the  end,  just  as  if  he  had  only  been 
thinking  deeply  with  his  eyes  shut.  The  choir  sang 
the  same  old  tunes;  the  preacher  presented  the  same 
old  doctrinal  points;  and  the  same  old  crowd  of 
rustic  boors  and  dandies  stood  just  outside  the  door, 
and  stared  into  the  faces  of  the  people  as  they  went 
out. 

Ramengo  has  its  romance.  Some  places  have  one 
thing,  and  some  another;  but  Ramengo  has  its  crazy 
man.  The  crazy  man  lurks  about  the  outskirts  of 
the  town,  and  sleeps  in  the  cornfields.  When  the 
men  go  away  from  their  houses,  then  the  crazy  man 
suddenly  presents  himself  before  the  terrified  women, 
and  demands  food.  The  crazy  man  is  quite  a  young 
man;  and  it  is  reported  and  believed  among  the 
younger  women  of  Ramengo  that  it  is  a  case  of  love. 
Once  the  crazy  man  loved  a  young  woman.  Obdur- 
ate she,  either  from  a  prior  attachment,  cruel  parents, 
or  some  other  cause,  frowned  upon  his  passion.  He 
pined;  then  he  wilted;  then  he  went  crazy,  and 
than  he  wandered  away  and  came  to  Ramengo. 
Such  is  the  feminine  explanation  of  the  enigma  of 
the  crazy  man.  It  is  a  characteristic  rendering  of 
the  mystery. 


244  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

The  crazy  man  meanwhile  looks  as  if  craziness 
and  lodging  in  cornfields  do  not  agree  with  him. 
His  hair  and  beard  are  matted,  and  his  hat  and  coat 
in  tatters.  He  is  saving  of  his  pantaloons,  and 
usually  carries  them  hung  over  his  arm  like  a  towel. 
The  effect  is  peculiar — a  good  deal  more  peculiar,  in 
fact,  than  modest. 

It  would  take  too  long  to  recount  all  that  Sagit- 
tarius saw  and  did  in  Eamengo.  He  sat  whole  days 
in  a  store  door,  and  stared  at  the  milliners  over  the 
way,  and  at  the  boys  who  originated  dog-fights  in 
the  street.  One  day  he  took  his  carpet-sack,  put 
himself  upon  the  train,  and  came  away 


BICYCULAR  AFFECTION. 


SAD  history  came  to  my  notice,  one  day 
,last  week,  when  walking  around  Chicago. 
It  involves  the  happiness  of  two  young  per- 
sons.   It  is  -the  saddest  of  those  sad  occur- 
rences in  which  the  human  heart  is  involved, 
and  in  which  it  is  the  principal  actor  as  well  as 
the  grandest  sufferer. 

There  is  a  young  gentleman  of  attractive  appear- 
ance, excellent  education,  and  fine  financial  pros- 
pects, who  lives  with  his  parents  in  a  pleasant  brick 
dwelling  on  the  avenue.  • 

A  year  ago  this  young  gentleman  commenced 
paying  his  addresses  to  the  youngest  daughter  of 
one  of  our  most  prosperous  commission  merchants, 
who  is  a  resident  of  a  princely  dwelling  on  the  ave- 
nue. The  young  lady  is  a  superb  blonde,  with  clus- 
tering curls,  a  petite  form,  and  a  lithe  figure.  She 
moves  with  that  easy,  undulating  grace  which  is 
best  described  by  the  word  "  willowy  "—that  infinite 
flexibility  whose  motion  is  never  angular,  or  dis- 
turbed, or  interrupted.  Her  fingers  possess  that  ex- 
quisite contour  which  is  equally  removed  from 
emaciated  slenderness  and  muscular  plumpness. 

Charmingly  developed  in  disposition,  carefully 
cultivated  in  intellect,  she  unites  in  body,  soul,  and 
heart,  that  peculiar  poise  which  is  only  found  in 
characters  that  approximate  closely  to  equable  and 


246  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

perfect  development.  Just  passed  nineteen,  at  the 
time  my  narrative  commences,  she  was  at  the  pre- 
cise age  when  the  germs  of  youth  had  unfolded  into 
fresh  and  fragrant  blossoms. 

He  possessed  all  her  delicacy  of  soul  with  a  vigor- 
ous, masculine  organization,  in  which  he  presented 
that  most  perfect  of  manly  characters — one  in  which 
the  refinement  peculiar  to  a  woman  is  hardened  and 
intensified  in  a  man,  until  he  becomes  a  power,  a 
support,  and  yet  characterized  by  infinite  delicacy. 
An  organization  of  the  kind  is  one  like  what  a  rose 
would  be  could  it  be  hardened  till  it  possessed  the 
tenacity  of  steel,  without  losing  any  of  its  flexi- 
bility, fragrance,  and  delicacy. 

His    person  was    tall    and    perfectly    erect;    his 

shoulders  broad,   and  the  beginning  of  a  pyramid 

which  narrowed  regularly  to  his  heels.     His   eyes 

were  a  full,  deep  brown,  and  his  hair  heavy,  and 

•just  a  shade  relieved  from  raven  blackness. 

The  course  of  true  love  did,  at  first,  run  smoothly. 
Of  the  proper  age,  of  excellent  prospects,  of  perfect 
health,  they  constituted  a  pair  that  seemed  as  ex- 
pressly created  for  each  other  as  the  bud  and  its  sup- 
porting branch.  Their  affection  was  profound,  with- 
out degenerating  into  maudlin  sentimentality. 
Founded  upon  mutual  respect.it  bade  fair  never  to  be- 
come weakened  by  a  familiarity  which  can  only  re- 
sult in  satiety,  and  possibly,  disgust.  They  seemed 
to  be  possessed  of  that  rare  faculty  among  lovers,  that 
of  keeping  in  ex,act  equipoise  an  ardent  love  and 
a  profound  respect.  It  is  rare,  indeed,  that  one  of 
these  qualities  does  not  give  way  to  the  other,  in 
which  case  the  result  is  the  inevitable  destruction  of 
both. 


Bicycular  Affection.  247 

Three  months  ago,  the  acquaintanceship,  which  had 
long  since  ripened  into  affection,  resulted  in  an  en- 
gagement. The  marriage  was  fixed  for  the  first  of 
May.  And  then  began,  on  the  part  of  both,  those 
preparations,  so  full  of  pleasure,  for  the  coming  sac- 
rifice at  the  altar. 

It  was  two  weeks  before  the  glorious  May-day 
upon  which  was  to  occur  the  consummation  of  these 
intermingling  loves. 

About  this  period,  he  called  one  evening  at  the 
residence  of  his  fiancee.  When  he  arrived,  he  sat  in 
the  parlor  until  she  should  make  her  appearance. 
Upon  this  evening,  he  waited  with  a  warm  and  yet 
controlled  impatience  for  her  coming.  The  few 
minutes  that  usually  elapsed  between  his  arrival 
and  her  presence  passed,  and  she  came  not.  His 
anticipations  began  to  grow  into  anxiety,  and  then 
— she  came. 

He  started  from  his  seat  as  the  door  opened,  with 
eagerly  outstretched  arms,  and  lips  fixed  for  the  cus- 
tomary kiss. 

"  My  darling,"  he  began,  and  then  stopped  sud- 
denly, frozen  in  speech  and  motion  into  rigidity. 

Instead  of  her  usually  springy  step  to  meet  him, 
she  entered  with  a  slow  and  measured  walk.  In 
place  of  glowing  with  expectancy,  her  face  was 
characterized  by  a  gloomy  resolution. 

She  stopped  in  front  of  him  as  he  stood  like  a 
marble  statue  of  disappointed  expectancy.  Her 
eyes  full  of  sadness  and  reproach,  were  turned 
sternly  upon  his  face. 

And  thus,  for  a  moment  or  two,  they  stood  con- 
fronting each  other  like  two  statues  of  Strength  and 
Beauty, 


248  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

"  Well,  sir!"  at  length  came  from  her  lips,  in  slow, 
cold,  and  measured  tones. 

The  words  seemed  an  icy  missile  that  pierced  his 
heart.  His  form  relaxed,  the  fine  tension  of  his 
pose  gave  way,  his  strength  seemed  to  have  sud- 
denly left  him. 

"  Well,  sir!"  he  repeated,  mechanically.  "Good 
heavens!  she  says  'Well,  sir!'  "  continued  he,  as  if 
communing  with  himself.  He  gazed  at  her  feebly 
for  a  moment,  and  then  staggered  to,  and  sank 
upon,  a  sofa. 

She  moved  to  an  arm-chair  and  seated  herself  in 
it  with  deliberation.  She  was  now  several  feet  from 
the  sofa,  and  yet  close  enough  to  converse  with 
ease. 

The  young  man  struggled  with  the  vast  emotions 
that  enveloped  him.  A  little  later,  and  he  emerged 
from  himself,  and  a  reaction  began  to  bring  strength 
to  his  relaxed  features  and  a  steady  light  to  his  eye. 

"You  said  'Well,  sir,'"  began  he,  with  some 
firmness,  "and,  in  reply,  permit  me  to  observe, 
'Well,  miss!" 

She  gazed  at  him  unflinchingly  and  unmovingly. 
He  continued. 

"  It  is  strange  language  for  me  to  use,  but  there 
seems  nothing  else  that  applies  to  this  singular  meet- 
ing. Perhaps  you  will  save  me  from  a  further  use 
of  it  by  giving  me  an  explanation?" 

"  Sir,"  said  she.  "  I  have  no  explanation  to  offer." 

" '  No  explanation!'  Am  I  mad?  Is  this  all  a 
dream?  Do  I  meet  you  with  every  line  off  affection 
effaced  from  your  face,  with  your  mouth  dropping 
icicles,  and  hear  only  that  there  is  no  explanation? " 

She  gave  no  answer.  He  waited  a  moment,  and 
resumed,  with  a  slight  accent  of  indignation: 


Bicycular  Affection.  249 

"You  have  no  explanation,  then,  for  this  cold- 
ness? Perhaps  none  is  due  me.  Perhaps  I  have  no 
right.  It  may  be  that  the  belief  on  my  part  that 
you  were  soon  to  become  my  wife  is  a  fancy,  a 
dream?  " 

"It  is,"  she  said,  simply. 

"  Heavens  !    Are  you  insane?  " 

"Not  in  the  least,  sir.'* 

"  Tell  me,  then,  what  all  this  means  !  I  will  know 
if  I  have  to  tear  it  from  your  false  heart  ! "  and 
he  arose  to  his  feet  and  stood  towering  and  mad- 
dened above  her. 

She  regarded  him  quietly.  "  No  violence  or 
heroics,"  she  said,  calmly,  "are  of  use,  or  will 
avail.  If  you  have  ever  believed  that  an  engage- 
ment existed  between  yourself  and  me  " — she  did 
not  say  us — "  you  will  regard  it  as  a  dream  or  a  fic- 
tion." 

"  Do  you  mean  this? " 

"I  do." 

"And  I  can  have  no  explanation? " 

"  None  from  me." 

"Then  go  to" — he  began,  savagely;  but  the  ruf- 
fianism of  the  moment  died  away  as  soon  as  it 
came,  and  he  added,  "Good  evening;"  and  without 
another  word,  he  strode  from  the  room. 

"One  moment,"  she  called.  "Take  these;"  and 
she  put  into  his  hands  a  weighty  package. 

And  then  he  passed  into  the  street,  and,  a  little 
later,  he  sat  in  his  own  room.  Before  him,  on  a 
table,  lay  the  contents  of  the  package  she  had  given 
him. 

They  were  his  presents  ! 

With  his  elbow  on  the  table,  and  both  hands 
clutched  savagely  into  his  hair,  and  supporting  his 


250  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

head,  he  gazed,  with  bloodshot  eyes,  upon  the  costly 
trinkets  spread  before  him. 

There  was  a  tiny  ring  of  brilliants.  It  recalled  a 
glorious  moonlight  night  of  warm  September.  A 
bracelet  brought  up  one  summer  evening,  when  his 
soul  was  thrilled  with  the  first  kiss. 

And  thus  each  article  suggested  some  sunny  scene, 
some  exquisite  enjoyment.  He  groaned  as  if  his 
soul  was  struggling  for  an  exit. 

Suddenly  his  eye  caught  a  tiny  envelope.  He 
seized  it.  It  was  sealed,  and  without  direction. 
He  tore  it  open.  A  printed  piece  of  paper,  evi- 
dently cut  from  a  newspaper,  was  within,  and  fas- 
tened to  a  sheet  of  note  paper.  Over  it  was  written, 
in  a  well-known  handwriting,  the  single  word, 
"Bead."  With  a  painfully-throbbing  heart,  he  pe- 
rused the  following: 

"  Competent  medical  authorities  have  decided  that  serious 
results  are  caused  by  riding  the  velocipede.  Among  these,  not 
the  least  is  the  giving  to  Malthusian  doctrines  a  practical  and 
eminently  undesired  effect. 

And  this  was  all.  To-day,  that  young  man  saunt- 
ers listlessly  about  the  streets  of  Chicago,  a  broken- 
hearted being.  Once  a  skillful  velocipedist,  he  now 
shuns  the  rinks,  as  a  freed  sinner  would  a  return  to 
purgatory.  Gone  are  his  ambition,  his  hope,  his 
love. 


ALL  ABOUT  A  WOMAN. 


T  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  one  of  the  regiments 
that  was  well  out  to  the  front  was  the 
Eleventh  Iowa.  Its  colonel  was  William 
Hall.  A  lady  was  with  him  who  was  his  wife. 
When  Beauregard  made  his  march  on  the 
Federals,  on  that  morning,  he  omitted  to  send 
word  of  his  coming.  Inconsequence,  his  unexpect- 
ed arrival  produced  some  surprise,  not  to  say  confu- 
sion. Many  of  our  people  had  not  yet  risen,  and, 
like  well-bred  gentlemen,  they  say  that  their  des- 
habille was  unfitted  for  the  reception  of  the  French- 
man. Therefore,  many  of  them  hastily  fled,  to 
make  their  toilets.  A  good  many  did  not  make 
them  in  time  to  return  on  that  day  to  the  front. 

I  will  not  say  that  Colonel  Hall  was  quite  as  un- 
prepared as  this.  Nevertheless,  pretty  much  the 
first  intimation  which  the  colonel  and  lady  received 
of  a  confederate  visit  was  a  twelve-pound  shell  that 
came  crashing  through  their  tent.  And  then  the 
colonel  hastily  dressed  himself,  buckled  on  his  sabre 
and  went  out.  Mrs.  Hall  proceeded  to  finish  her 
toilet.  Meanwhile,  shell  and  round  shot  tore  through 
her  canvas  boudoir,  as  if  to  suggest  a  hasty  depart- 
ure of  its  occupant. 

But  she  carefully  arrayed  herself  all  the  same. 
Back  hair  and  front  hair  were  elaborately  arranged 
as  usual.  Cuffs  and  collars  were  duly  pinned.  Then 


252  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

a  few  articles  of  dress  were  hunted  for  and  packed 
up.  After  which  she  went  out,  with  her  package, 
to  the  rear  of  her  tent,  saddled  a  pony,  mounted  it, 
and  rode  slowly  to  the  rear. 

All  this  time  the  air  above  and  around  was  riven 
with  fierce-speeding  missiles,  and  red  with  the  flame 
of  bursting  shells.  She  moved  calmly  through  the 
deafening  and  blasting  tempest,  till  she  reached  the 
protecting  banks  of  the  Tennessee. 

That  evening  her  needle  and  thread  came  into  use 
for  purposes  of  repair.  Her  dress  was  cut  in  some 
twenty -nine  different  places  by  bullets  and  frag- 
ments of  shell. 

At  luka,  Mrs.  Hall  once  more  ran  the  gauntlet  of 
rebel  bullets;  and  again,  although  her  dress  was 
pierced  in  a  score  of  places,  she  coolly  moved  un- 
harmed through  the  deadly  storm.  On  the  long 
march  around  Vicksburg  I  again  met  her.  She  rode 
beneath  the  broiling  sun,  along  the  interminable 
bayous,  as  uncomplainingly  as  if  on  a  visit  to  a 
neighbor.  She  was.  in  the  trenches  at  Vicksburg, 
and  remained  there  until  the  strong  city  had  sur- 
rendered. 

The  next  spring,  stricken  down  by  a  chronic  dis- 
ease, her  husband  went  home  to  Davenport,  Iowa, 
and  she  as  faithfully  accompanied  him  as  she  had 
during  the  long  months  that  separated  Shiloh  from 
Vicksburg. 

For  months  her  husband  was  an  invalid.  After  a 
while  he  grew  better,  and  then  some  unexpected 
turn  of  the  disease  occurred,  and  he  died.  The 
widow,  after  settling  up  her  estate,  found  herself 
possessed  of  one  charming  little  daughter,  and  no 
means  whatever.  With  this  capital  she  came,  in 
1865,  or  18GG,  to  Chicago,  and  took  up  her  residence 


All  About  a  Woman.  253 

with  some  relatives.  Now  commenced  the  real 
battle  of  life. 

Her  papers,  duly  made  out  and  sent  to  the  pension 
office,  were  returned  with  the  information  that  there 
was  no  proof  in  them  that  her  husband  died  of  a 
disease  contracted  in  the  army.  She  sent  them  to 
her  legal  agent,  who  consumed  six  months  in  find- 
ing out  that  he — did  not  know  what  to  do. 

Meanwhile,  the  lady  brought  no  end  of  pressure 
upon  Gilmore,  and,  in  time — say  six  months  later — 
was  rewarded  by  a  subordinate  position  in  the 
Chicago  postoffice.  And  then  she  gave  her  atten- 
tion to  getting  her  pension. 

Her  agent  had  given  up  the  thing  in  disgust.  He 
could  not  produce  the  proof  required  by  the  pension 
department.  He  so  advised  her,  and  told  her  that 
hope  of  government  aid  was  useless.  Under  the 
circumstances  most  women  would  have  yielded  the 
struggle.  She  resolved  to  fight  the  thing  out. 

She  occupied  nearly  a  year  in  trying  to  find  the 
address  of  the  division  surgeon.  Letters  were  sent 
everywhere.  Some  of  them,  in  time,  came  back 
from  the  dead-letter  office.  Others  gave  her  assur- 
ances that  the  surgeon  was  dead,  or  in  New  Mexico, 
in  California,  or  that  it  was  not  known  where  he 
was.  Still,  she  followed  up  the  trail,  but  was  ever 
baffled.  Time  and  again  did  she  travel  from  Chicago 
to  various  portions  of  the  east  and  west,  in  the  hope 
that  some  army  surgeon  could  give  her  the  required 
proof.  She  took  statements  which  were  sent  on  to 
Washington  with  new  papers,  but  always  the  inex- 
orable official  returned  them  with  the  indorsement 
that  there  was  not  sufficient  proof  that  the  cause  of 
death  was  acquired  in  the  army. 


254  'Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

During  the  intervals  of  hunting  up  testimony,  she 
opened  up  a  correspondence  with  Iowa  congressmen, 
asking  for  a  special  act  in  her  favor.  This  was  in 
1867.  Plastic  congressmen  answered  her  that  the 
thing  could  be  done,  and  should  be  done. 

As  is  customary,  they  promised  and — did  nothing. 
She  waited  a  year  on  these  promises,  and  then  went 
to  Washington.  She  got  Grant's  indorsement  of 
her  petition  for  a  special  act.  Sherman  signed  it, 
and  so  did  many  another  dignitary  of  the  army  of 
Tennessee.  Leaving  them  in  the  hands  of  Congress- 
man Price,  she  returned  to  Chicago. 

The  petition  went  before  the  committee  and  was 
defeated.  She  was  so  advised,  and  was  told  that 
nothing  more  could  be  done.  Here  was  another  ex- 
cellent point  to  give  up  at.  But  she  didn't.  She 
continued  the  fight. 

Once  more  she  commenced  corresponding  with 
and  visiting  different  places.  She  got  up  another 
series  of  affidavits  and  papers — the  fiftieth  possibly, 
in  all — and  sent  them  on  to  Congress  asking  a  special 
act. 

In  this  way  she  fought  on  till  March,  1869. 

At  this  time,  the  health  of  some  member  of  the 
family  gave  way,  and  she  accompanied  him  to  some 
country  place  near  Rock  Island.  Just  before  leav- 
ing Chicago,  she  was  notified  that  her  bill  had 
passed  through  the  committee.  This  was  cheering. 
The  next  letter  informed  her  that  it  had  passed  the 
house,  and  concluded  with  the  information  that,  as 
it  was  so  near  the  end  of  the  session,  it  would  not 
be  reached  by  the  senate,  and  that  it  was  very 
doubtful,  in  case  it  could  reach  that  body,  that  it 
would  pass, 


All  About  a  Woman.  255 

And  so  ended  her  hopes.  She  went  into  the  coun- 
try, wearied  with  her  arduous  struggle,  but  not  dis- 
mayed or  defeated.  During  the  intervals  of  waiting 
upon  her  father,  she  planned  a  new  campaign,  and 
sought  for  fresh  evidence. 

Thirty  days  passed  without  her  hearing  from  any 
one.  Then  there  came  along  a  neighbor  who 
brought  a  letter  which  he  had  accidently  seen  ad- 
vertised in  the  Rock  Island  post-office.  It  was  post- 
marked at  Washington,  and  read,  in  substance: 
"Your  bill  was  reached  by  the  senate,  and  was 
passed  at  almost  the  last  moment.  It  has  been  duly 
signed  by  the  president,"  etc. 

In  the  language  of  her  sex,  the  young  woman  sat 
down  and  "had  a  good  cry."  A  day  or  two  later 
she  got  a  draft  for  some  sixty  months'  back  pension, 
at  the  rate  of  $30  per  month. 

If  this  sketch  proves  any  thing,  it  is  that  Provi- 
dence helps  those  who  help  themselves,  even  if  they 
are  women. 


A  RIDE  TO  DEATH. 


tt 


years  ago,  I  found  myself  a  temporary 
resident  of  one  of  those  bluff-cities  lying 
p^w   some  where  on  the  Mississippi  between  its 

t-  \  source  and  the  gulf.  I  had  just  left  college, 
and,  with  a  sheepskin  in  my  pocket,  certifying 
that  I  was  duly  exalted  to  the  dignity  of  a  B.  A., 
I  started  to  the  great  west  in  search  of  what  I 
lacked  most,  viz. :  fame  and  fortune. 

It  was  at  the  time  that  the  western  fever  was  epi- 
demic all  over  the  eastern  states.  In  every  home  in 
the  seaboard  and  middle  states,  somebody  was 
stricken  with  the  malady.  Generally  the  victim 
was  the  scapegrace  of  the  family.  He  was  the  rest- 
less, uneasy  member,  to  whom  a  future  which  prom- 
ised only  the  dull  routine  of  the  past  was  a  matter 
of  supreme  disgust. 

As  a  logical  result,  the  men  who  came  west  were 
usually  young,  ambitious  and  daring.  Timid  souls 
stayed  at  home.  Only  those  who  had  the  strength 
to  burst  the  shackles  of  fogyism,  could  escape  the 
weary  imprisonment,  which  habit  and  custom  had 
imposed  upon  the  residents  of  the  older  states. 

It  was  some  twelve  years  ago  from  the  time  I 
write  that  I  found  myself  west  of  the  Mississippi. 
The  city  where  I  first  stopped  on  my  journey  was 
supposed  to  be  a  sort  of  Craditanum  Fretum,  at 


A  Ride  to  Death.  257 

which  was  the  narrow  strait  which  connected  the 
known  with  the  unknown  world.  Passing  through 
it,  one  was  supposed  to  embark  on  an  ocean,  in  any 
part  of  which  he  might  discover  fairy  islands  with- 
out number. 

The  place  was  full  of  adventurers  who  had  not  yet 
embarked.  Either  the  winds  were  not  fair,  or  there 
was  nothing  about  to  sail,  or  they  had  no  money  to 
pay  the  passage,  or  something.  At  any  rate,  in  a 
a  week  after  I  had  reached  the  town  I  found  myself 
in  company  with  several  hundred  young  men,  mainly 
engaged  in  nothing  in  particular.  Everybody  was 
running  around  frantically;  everybody  was  fevered 
and  restless,  and  full  of  schemes  and  anticipation; 
but  the  great  number  of  the  new-comers  was  not 
doing  anything  else.  In  such  a  case  when  hope  is 
large  and  realization  scanty,  men  very  easily  fall 
into  the  habit  of  drinking. 

When  one  is  possessed  with  a  grand  vision,  and 
fails  to  see  it  become  a  reality,  there  is  nothing  that 
will  so  effectually  prevent  the  fading  of  this  vision 
as  generous  wine.  It  brings  out  colors  which  are 
passing  away;  it  restores  fancies  which  are  about  to 
elude  the  grasp. 

Many  of  us,  who  had  reared  magnificent  air- 
castles,  saw  them  gradually  becoming  effaced. 
Dipping  our  brushes  in  the  golden  depths  of  the 
wine-pot,  we  could  repaint,  re-decorate,  restore  these 
vanishing  creations.  To  be  sure  the  restoration  was 
not  lasting;  each  day  the  process  required  repetition, 
and  each  time  the  labor  was  a  greater  one. 

I  succeeded  in  getting  a  room  after  some  difficulty; 
and  then  I  had  to  share  one  already  occupied  by  two 
young  men  about  my  own  age.  Both,  like  myself, 
had  left  the  East  to  seek  their  fortune  in  the  roseate 


258  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

West.  They  were  named  respectively  Howe  and 
Brattles.  Howe  was  from  some  where  in  New  Eng- 
land, and  Brattles  from  New  York. 

We  soon  found  that  we  stood  upon  common 
ground.  Howe  and  Brattles  had  been  some  months 
waiting  for  something  to  turn  up.  Nothing  had 
turned  up,  except  that  the  bills  of  the  landlord  came 
with  regularity;  and  the  diet,  discomfort,  and  crowd 
each  day  turned  up  a  little  worse,  if  possible,  than 
they  had  on  the  day  before.  My  two  companions 
mainly  occupied  themselves  in  "letting"  themselves 
"down"  from  an  old  drunk,  or  clambering  vigor- 
ously into  a  new  one.  I  found  them  intelligent, 
jovial  and  communicative.  In  a  week,  I  shared  all 
their  hopes  and  disappointments;  and  applied  my- 
self as  vigorously  as  they  to  hunting  comfort  in  an 
inverted  tumbler. 

Howe  was  a  singular  sort  of  a  character,  He  was 
tall,  straight,  with  a  swarthy  complexion,  and 
straight,  black  hair;  and  he  possessed  other  points 
which  made  him  look  not  unlike  one  of  Indian  des- 
cent. He  may  have  had  some  aboriginal  blood  in 
his  veins;  but  of  this  I  never  knew.  He  was  very 
reticent  about  his  family,  and  never  alluded  to  any 
of  his  relatives,  save  to  sometimes  intimate,  in  a 
vague  way,  something  about  having  left  home  on 
account  of  trouble  with  his  father.  He  had  bursts 
of  loquacity  in  his  reticence;  but  generally  he  con- 
versed but  little.  When  intoxicated,  or  partially  so, 
his  whole  nature  changed.  It  was  on  such  occasions 
that  I  suspected  his  possessing  an  Indian  origin. 
Then  his  black  eyes  would  blaze,  and  he  would  be- 
come as  restless  as  a  wild  beast.  At  a  certain  point 
he  would  become  utterly  reckless,  and  was  ready 
for  any  act,  regardless  of  its  character  or  results, 


A  Ride  to  Death.  •  259 

Of  Brattle's  peculiarities  it  is  not  necessary  to 
speak,  further  than  to  say  that  he  was  somewhat 
careless  and  thoughtless,  easily  influenced,  and 
ready  at  all  times,  without  reflection,  to  follow  in 
any  movement  in  which  somebody  else  would  take 
the  lead.  In  many  respects,  the  same  was  true  of 
myself.  I  was  rather  indolent,  and  very  glad  to  avail 
myself  of  the  ingenuity  of  others  in  the  securing  of 
ways  and  means  for  amusement,  ancl  for  passing  the 
time,  which  hung  rather  heavily  upon  our  hands.  I 
mention  these  peculiarities  of  my  two  companions 
and  myself  for  reasons  which  will  make  themselves 
apparent  in  time. 

It  was  in  the  latter  part  of  September  that  oc- 
curred the  incident  which  I  am  about  to  relate. 
Howe  was  the  first  out  of  bed  one  morning,  and, 
going  to  the  window,  he  threw  open  the  blinds  and 
looked  out.  A  gleam  of  sunshine  lighted  the  room, 
and  the  fresh  morning  air  rushed  in  laden  with  in- 
spiration. 

"  I  say,  fellows,"  said  Howe,  after  taking  in  the 
prospect  for  a  few  moments,  "let's  go  into  the  coun- 
try. It's  a  glorious  morning;  and  I  am  getting  tired 
of  this  infernal  city." 

"I'm in,"  said  Brattles. 

"And  I,"  said  the  remaining  member  of  the  trio. 

"  But  where  shall  we  go?"  inquired  Howe. 

"  Oh,  anywhere,"  responded  I;  let  us  dine  some- 
where where  there  are  no  corner-lot  speculators,  no 
invitations  to  a  game  of  seven-up." 

"That's  it,"  chimed  in  Brattles;  "we  want  to  get 
where  we  can  cool  the  fever  in  our  blood.  Let  us 
get  out  where  we  can  breathe  and  bathe  in  air  that 
has  not  been  made  red-hot  by  the  curses  of  ruined 
speculators." 


260  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

And  much  more  to  the  same  purport — the  result 
of  which  was  that  we  swallowed  a  hasty  breakfast, 
and  then  went  in  a  body  to  an  adjacent  livery 
stable. 

I  had  frequently  engaged  horses  at  this  same 
stable;  and,  having  always  brought  everything  back 
in  good  order,  the  proprietor  was  willing  to  trust  me 
with  his  better  class  of  animals.  In  response  to  our 
request  for  a  "rig,"  "  Mack"  informed  us  that  he 
had  nothing  available  except  a  certain  animal  which 
he  did  not  like  to  let,  as  he  was  inclined  to  run  away 
unless  closely  watched. 

We  promised  due  diligence,  and,  after  some  hesi- 
tation, "  Mack "  consented.  On  account  of  the 
character  of  the  horse,  and  because  we  were  going 
in  the  country,  the  vehicle  selected  for  us  was  a 
stout,  square  affair,  somewhat  like  the  ordinary  ex- 
press wagon.  The  horse  was  speedily  harnessed, 
and  was  driven  out.  He  was  a  large,  powerful 
beast,  jet  black,  and  with  a  vicious  eye,  that  blazed 
like  a  live  coal.  When  he  was  driven  out  by  the 
assistant,  he  came  with  a  series  of  ugly  lunges,  and 
two  or  three  shakes  of  the  head  that  were  full  of 
mischievous  promise. 

"You  want  to  watch  that  critter  right  close," said 
"  Mack,"  as  we  clambered  in,  and  the  boy  held  the 
horse  by  the  head  with  no  small  difficulty.  "He's 
uglier  nor  h — 11,"  continued  "  Mack,"  as  I  gathered 
up  the  reins,  "and,  if  you  ain't  watchin'  him,  he'll 
string  you  sure" 

"All  right,"  said  I,  "let  him  go,  boy;"  and  away 
we  went  over  the  cobble-stones  of  one  of  the  main 
streets,  at  a  speed  which,  had  we  known  any  thing 
of  Dexter,  would  have  reminded  us  of  that  renowned 
animal, 


A  Ride  to  Death.  261 

Howe  said  he  had  forgotten  something  at  the 
hotel,  and  insisted  that  I  should  drive  there  for  a 
moment.  I  consented  finally,  and  managed,  not  to 
stop,  but  to  lay  "  off  and  on,"  in  front  of  the  build- 
ing during  Howe's  absence.  He  returned  in  a  few 
minutes  with  a  box  of  cigars  and  something  wrap- 
ped up  in  a  paper,  and  whose  outlines  were  not  un- 
like those  of  a  large  bottle.  He  clambered  into  the 
wagon  with  a  good  deal  of  difficulty,  and,  a  moment 
after,  we  were  bowling  along  a  straight  street  that 
led  direct  into  the  country. 

As  I  stated  in  the  beginning  of  this  narration,  the 
town  at  which  I  was  located  is  built  upon  the  bluffs 
of  the  Mississippi.  That  is,  a  portion  of  the  town 
is  on  the  bluffs;  but  the  business  portion,  and,  in 
fact,  the  greater  part  of  the  place,  lies  on  the  bottom 
between  the  foot  of  the  bluffs  and  the  river.  The 
bluffs  are  very  lofty,  rising  at  some  points  from  300 
to  400  feet  above  the  banks  of  the  river.  The  action 
of  water,  exerted  for  centuries,  has  cut  deep  ravines 
down  these  heights,  along  which  the  inhabitants 
have  cut  streets.  Without  these  ravines,  nothing 
less  than  a  ladder  would  serve  one  in  getting  from 
the  bottom  to  the  heights  of  the  bluffs. 

Some  of  these  ravine  roads  were  finished,  and 
others  were  not.  The  main  route  to  the  country 
was  along  "Julian  avenue,"  as  it  was  called, — the 
broadest,  least  crooked  and  most  finished  of  the 
roads  leading  up  the  bluffs.  The  ravine  up  which  it 
ran  had  been  blasted  and  wrought  upon,  until  there 
resulted  a  wide  street,  straight  as  an  arrow,  and 
which  rose  from  the  ' '  bottom  "  to  the  high  country 
lying  back  by  a  gradient  of  about  thirty-five  degrees. 
Its  surface  was  solid  rock,  and  it  was  smooth  as  a 
floor,  save  that  here  and  there  were  little  bits  of 


262  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

rocks  which  had  fallen  from  the  walls  of  the  street, 
or  had  been  washed  into  various  positions  by  the 
water  which,  after  heavy  rains,  poured  into  the 
avenue  from  lateral  ravines. 

In  some  places,  high,  smooth  walls  of  rock,  bear- 
ing the  mark  of  the  drill,  rise  on  both  sides  of  the 
street.  In  other  places,  the  adjacent  sides  recede  in 
sloping  amphitheatres,  in  which  are  residences.  At 
intervals,  where  the  bluffs  abut  squarely  on  the 
street,  huge  fragments  of  rocks  have  become  de- 
tached from  these  revetements;  and  they  lie,  here 
singly,  there  in  vast,  misshapen  piles  which  thrust 
themselves  well  towards  the  centre  of  the  thorough- 
fare, and  necessitate  vehicles  to  make  a  slight  de- 
tour in  passing  them. 

It  was  up  this  avenue  that  we  directed  our  course, 
and  up  which  our  horse,  despite  the  ascent  and  the 
heavy  wagon,  proceeded  at  a  swift  trot,  which  only 
a  tight  rein  prevented  from  becoming  a  gallop. 
From  the  point  where  the  avenue  begins  at  the 
"bottom"  to  the  point  where  it  issues  upon  the 
highland  beyond,  is  just  about  a  mile.  The  place 
where  the  ascent  ends  and  the  level  road  begins,  is 
as  sharply  defined  as  the  ridge  of  a  house.  Going 
into  the  city,  one  walks  from  the  level  road  and 
commences  the  descent  at  one  step,  as  if  he  were  to 
step  suddenly  from  a  flat  to  a  descending  roof. 

Notwithstanding  the  speed  at  which  we  ascended, 
I  noticed,  in  passing,  several  little  groups  and 
events.  At  one  brick  house,  a  woman  with  a  broom 
stood  at  one  of  the  windows.  She  had  on  a  dark 
calico  dress,  and  one  of  her  blonde  locks  had  escaped 
and  hung  down  over  her  left  shoulder.  In  a  yard, 
several  children  were  playing, — one  of  whom,  a 
boy,  was  carrying  a  little  girl  pick-a-back.  A  cur 


A  Ride  to  Death.  263 

with  immense  splay  feet  chased  a  spaniel  with  long 
ears,  among  the  shrubbery.  At  another  place  were 
two  cows,  one  of  which  was  grazing,  and  the  other, 
attracted  by  the  noise  of  our  vehicle,  raised  her 
head  and  stared  at  us  with  wondering  eyes. 

We  emerged  into  the  open  country;  and,  after  pro- 
ceeding a  couple  of  miles,  my  arms  became  tired 
holding  the  vicious  beast  which  hauled  us.  Howe 
proposed  to  turn  off  in  a  little  grove  by  the  roadside, 
and  tie  the  animal  to  a  tree.  We  did  so;  and,  a 
little  later,  the  horse  was  securely  fastened,  and  we 
were  sunning  ourselves  in  a  grassy  opening  that 
presented  itself  near  the  outskirts  of  the  grove. 

It  is  foreign  to  my  purpose  to  relate  the  conversa- 
tion and  minutiae  of  our  stay.  Suffice  it,  that  our 
conversation  took  a  wide  range,  and  that  it  was 
punctuated  by  frequent  applications  of  the  bottle 
which  had  been  secured  by  Howe.  We  retailed  old 
jokes,  invented  new  ones,  sang  and  became  hilari- 
ous. In  the  course  of  about  three  hours  the  bottle 
was  empty,  and  all  of  us  had  passed  into  that  con- 
dition in  which  recklessness  was  in  the  ascendancy. 
A  return  to  town,  and  "  to  make  a  night  of  it,"  were 
proposed  and  carried  unanimously. 

We  unhitched  the  horse,  and,  getting  in  with 
much  trouble,  we  started  homewards.  Howe  in- 
sisted on  driving,  and  I  consented.  Annoyed  by 
the  flies,  which  had  been  tormenting  him  all  day, 
and  knowing  himself  to  be  going  towards  home,  the 
horse  was  more  headstrong  than  usual,  and  tore 
along  at  a  pace  which  only  the  efforts  of  two  of  us 
at  the  reins  could  prevent  from  setting  into  a  run. 
We  all  three  sat  upon  the  seat,  Howe  in  the  middle. 

I  noticed  that  Howe  was  more  intoxicated  than 
either  Brattles  or  myself.  His  cheeks  were  flushed, 


264  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

and  his  black  eyes  shone  with  a  fierce,  unnatural 
fire.  His  jaws  were  set,  and  his  breathing  was 
short  and  accompanied  with  a  noise  like  that  of 
snoring.  The  excitement  of  the  drive  had  deepened, 
instead  of  lessened,  intoxication. 

"  Steady,  old  fellow,"  said  I,  as,  emerging  from  a 
a  strip  of  "timber,"  we  found  ourselves  only  a  few 
rods  from  where  began  the  descent  of  Julian  ave- 
nue. "  Steady,  now!  We  are  getting  into  town." 

"All  right,"  said  he,  and  with  a  powerful  effort  he 
reined  the  horse  into  a  walk.  The  animal  shook  his 
head  madly  and  tugged  fiercely  at  the  bit.  A  mo- 
ment after  we  reached  the  descent,  and  the  long 
declivity  of  the  avenue  came  into  view.  At  the  very 
instant  that  we  gained  the  point  where  the  avenue 
"breaks"  down  from  the  level  and  commences  to 
descend,  the  horse  gave  a  wild  plunge.  The  next 
instant,  Howe  rose  suddenly  to  his  feet.  With  his 
left  hand  he  threw  the  lines  over  the  horse's  head, 
and  with  his  right  he  brought  down  the  heavy 
whip  with  tremendous  force  upon  the  animal's  back, 
exclaiming,  with  a  voice  that  rose  almost  to  a 
shriek: 

"  You  want  to  go  !    Then  GO  !    G— d  d— n  you  ! " 

I  had  just  sufficient  time  to  see  the  brute  leap  with 
a  maddened  bound  into  what  seemed  space,-  when  I 
found  myself  thrown  over  the  seat  into  the  box 
behind  with  stunning  violence.  Brattles  fell  beside 
me,  and  Howe  came  heavily,  and  with  an  unfinished 
yell  on  his  lips,  upon  both  of  us. 

What  followed  was  like  a  dream,  whose  images 
stand  out  prominently,  but  which  lacks  continuity.  I 
remember  falling,  but  I  do  not  remember  how  I  re- 
covered myself.  After  the  fall,  the  next  thing  which 
I  recollect  is,  that  I  was  sitting  on  the  bottom  of  the 


A  Ride  to  Death.  265 

wagon,  holding  to  the  railing;  that  Brattles  had  dis- 
appeared; and  that  Howe  was  partly  on  one  knee, 
just  before  me,  clinging  to  the  edge  of  the  box,  bare- 
headed, rocking  furiously,  and  giving  utterance  to 
maniacal  yells  of  exultation. 

The  stroke  of  the  whip,  the  blasphemous  impreca- 
tion of  Howe,  the  bound  of  the  horse,  the  fall,  the 
recovery, — all  seem  to  have  occurred  instantane- 
ously. Time  seems  to  have  been  obliterated.  I 
recollect  these  events,  and  they  all  appear  as  if  they 
took  place  at  the  same  time. 

After  the  lapse  of  the  moment  of  unconsciousness 
that  must  have  occurred  immediately  at  the  time  I 
was  thrown  backward,  and  the  instant  that  I  par- 
tially sat  upright,  I  seemed  at  once  endowed  with  a 
sort  of  tripartite  consciousness.  Three  distinct  sets 
of  thoughts  seemed  to  possess  me,  each,  of  which 
apparently  pursued  an  independent  process.  These 
three  processes  seemed  respectively  to  take  in  sim- 
ultaneously the  past,  present  and  future. 

In  the  present,  I  saw  exactly  and  comprehended 
our  situation.  I  saw  the  black  devil  in  front,  with 
flying  mane,  plunging  madly  down  the  avenue.  I 
saw  Howe  distinctly,  and  was  conscious  of  his  exact 
expression.  I  felt  the  wagon,  not  running  appar- 
ently on  the  ground,  but  only  touching  it  at  intervals, 
and  then  springing  forward  as  if  it  were  progressing 
by  great  leaps.  A  black  wall  was  on  either  side  of 
me,  which  seemed  composed  of  long,  horizontal 
layers  of  darkness,  that  were  rushing  backward  with 
the  speed  of  lightning;  but  even  in  this,  as  in  a  pool 
of  ink,  I  saw  houses  and  fences,  and  recognized  the 
outlines  of  jutting  rocks. 

Such  are  the  outlines  of  what  may  be  called  the 
present  of  the  three  processes  which  possessed  me 


266  Army  and  Other  Stories. 

It  was  clear  and  distinct,  but  none  the  less  so  than 
the  second  process,  and  which  related  to  the  future. 
This  portion  of  the  triune  existence  thus  suddenly 
thrust  upon  me  related  chiefly  to  what  might  hap- 
pen. I  saw,  as  if  clairvoyantly,  what  lay  before  us. 
I  could  see  that  we  would  reach  a  pile  of  rock;  that 
the  wheel  would  pass  over  it,  and  we  be  dashed  from 
the  overtuned  wagon  against  the  wall  below. 

All  this  time  the  third  process  seemed  in  opera- 
tion. This  busily  wove  into  a  ragged  woof,  events 
of  the  past.  They  were  not  the  more  important  oc- 
currences of  my  life  that  were  thus,  as  it  were, 
knotted  together.  This  third  faculty  may  be  better 
compared  to  a  species  of  divergent  light,  like  that 
shot  from  the  great  lamp  of  a  locomotive.  Some 
such  species  of  illumination  appeared  to  be  thrown 
into  the  past.  In  the  midst  of  the  vista  which  it 
clove  in  the  darkness,  I  could  discover  events  in 
my  life  as  if  they  had  been  paintings  or  statuary 
flashed  upon  by  a  light. 

AS  I  have  said,  I  neither  saw  the  grander  occur- 
rences of  my  life,  nor  was  there  any  regular  pro- 
gress, like  a  review.  The  divergent  light  flashed 
upon  something  away  back  in  my  childhood,  and 
immediately  after  upon  something  which  occurred 
that  morning.  Thus,  I  saw  myself  walking  with  a 
younger  brother.  He  could  just  barely  walk,  and  I 
saw  myself  holding  his  hand,  and  recognized  that, 
he  wore  a  frock,  and  a  hood  which  was  fastened  to 
his  head  with  a  silk  handkerchief  that  was  knotted 
under  his  chin.  I  saw  this  picture  as  through  a 
lighted  tube,  in  a  dense  wall  of  darkness  that  seemed 
the  past.  The  very  next  thing  that  the  light  revealed 
to  me  was  the  woman  with  the  broom,  and  the  dark 
dress,  and  the  straggling  lock  of  hair,  whom  I  had 


A  Hide  to  Death.  267 

noticed  that  morning  at  the  window.  There  was  no 
method  in  its  revelations.  One  moment,  it  threw 
its  long  rays  across  a  play-ground  and  a  group  of 
school-boys,  of  whom  I  was  one;  and  the  next,  there 
were  visible  through  the  darkness  the  boy  carrying 
his  little  sister  pick-a-back,  and  the  splay-footed  cur 
chasing  its  long-eared  companion  among  the  trees. 

It  appeared  to  be  that  I  knew  I  would  be  killed. 
Death  was  present;  and,  although  without  form  it 
was  as  if  I  could  feel  it  in  a  sort  of  shadowy  some- 
thing that  seemed  to  be  gradually  gathering  about, 
and  constricting  the  motion  of  my  heart.  Despite 
this,  I  was  not  alarmed  at  the  apparent  certainty  of 
death.  I  had  no  particular  recollection  of  the  good 
or  evil  of  my  life.  There  was  rather  a  triviality 
that  attended  this  certainty  of  death.  I  wondered 
what  the  woman  in  the  window  would  think  could 
she  see  us;  and  whether  the  little  boy  would  not 
drop  his  sister  in  pitying  horror  could  he  appreciate 
our  situation.  I  seemed  to  strive  to  guess  what  my 
mother  would  say  when  she  heard  the  news;  a.nd 
perhaps  the  same  attempt  occurred  with  reference 
to  a  dozen  other  people.  But  all  this  time  I  realized 
nothing — I  never  even  thought  of  futurity.  Heaven 
or  hell  came  no  more  to  my  mind  than  if  I  had  never 
heard  of  their  existence. 

One  sensation  that  I  recall  was,  that  I  seemed 
gradually  being  swallowed  up  in  darkness.  It  was 
not  a  thick  darkness;  but  rather  I  seemed  enveloped 
by  a  medium  which  was  possessed  of  fluidity  and 
transparency,  but  which  was  gradually  growing 
darker.  I  could  appreciate  that  this  medium  would 
eventually  become  black,  and  this  seemed  the  meas- 
ure of  my  life.  My  thoughts  and  existence  would 


268  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

accompany  its  changes;  and,  when  the  full  black 
was  reached,  my  life  would  be  gone.  This  ultimate 
and  approaching  blackness  seemed  pure  non-exist- 
ence, into  which  I  should  finally  be  merged. 

The  portion  of  the  trinity  which  possessed  me, 
and  which  related  to  the  present,  was,  as  I  have 
already  intimated,  of  surprising  clearness.  It 
seemed  a  sort  of  independent  consciousness,  and  oc- 
cupied itself  with  immediate  surroundings  and  cir- 
cumstances. It  revealed  the  horse,  perfectly  out- 
lined, and  appearing  like  a  mass  of  black  launched 
in  space.  I  saw  distinctly  the  large,  loose  sleeves  of 
Howe's  coat,  and  his  hair  fluttering  in  the  wind  with 
the  rapidity  of  lightning.  I  saw  the  long  perspec- 
tive of  the  avenue,  with  its  ascending  and  descend- 
ing vehicles  and  pedestrians.  In  the  background 
lay  the  Mississippi;  and  I  caught  the  reflection  of  a 
fleecy  cloud  in  its  depths;  and,  just  coming  around 
a  point  above,  I  saw  a  steamboat,  and  read  without 
difficulty  the  name  upon  its  wheel-house.  I  even 
noticed  a  little  group  of  passengers  upon  the  hurri- 
cane deck;  and  I  observed  that  a  furnace  door  was 
open,  and  that  a  fireman  was  pushing  something-  in 
the  red,  cavernous  depths. 

Exactly  opposite,  on  the  sidewalk,  was  a  woman 
holding  a  little  girl  by  the  hand.  The  latter  tugged 
at  the  hand  with  the  other,  as  if  urging  her  forward; 
the  mother,  with  an  expression  of  horror  upon  her 
face,  stood  like  a  frozen  statue.  Just  below,  was  a 
farmer  driving  an  empty  hay-wagon.  He  had  risen 
to  his  feet,  and  was  lashing  his  horses  to  get  them 
out  of  our  way.  I  even  noticed  that  his  horses  were 
ordinary  farm-horses,  and  that  one  of  them,  catching 
sight  of  us,  had  arched  his  neck  and  thrown  forward 
its  ears  with  an  appearance  of  fright.  I  could  see 


A  Ride  to  Death.  269 

pedestrians  all  along  the  street.  Some  of  those 
nearest  us  had  caught  sight  of  us,  and  had  stopped; 
but  nearly  all  were  ascending  or  descending,  as  if 
unconscious  of  the  imminence  of  any  thing  uncom- 
mon. 

The  wagon  seemed  possessed  of  volition  and  inde- 
pendent motion.  It  leaped,  bounded,  rather  than 
rolled.  It  seemed  to  vault  into  space.  When  it 
descended,  a  sensation  possessed  me  exactly  as  if  I 
had  suddenly  been  deprived  of  gravity.  It  seemed 
as  if  a  spider-thread  would  have  held  me  suspended 
in  the  air  at  the  moment  when  the  vehicle  com- 
menced to  descend.  I  felt  as  if  the  placing  of  my 
open  hands  on  the  air  would  buoy  me  up,  and  allow 
the  descending  vehicle  to  pass  from  under  me.  It 
was,  I  fancy,  a  feeling  akin  to  the  sensation  expe- 
rienced by  a  sea-sick  person  at  the  moment  when 
the  vessel  drops  from  a  great  height  into  the  trough 
of  the  waves. 

I  have  spoken  of  a  sort  of  atmosphere  which 
enveloped  me,  and  which  seemed  to  grow  gradually 
darker.  It  would  be  more  correct  to  say  that  I  felt 
as  if  I  was  in  the  centre  of  an  immense  sphere, 
which,  near  me,  was  a  sort  of  twilight,  but  whose 
exterior  was  utter  darkness.  This  exterior  seemed 
rushing  to  the  common  centre  formed  by  me.  As  I 
have  said,  I  felt  that,  when  this  darkness  reached 
me,  I  should  be  dead.  The  motion  inward  of  the 
circumference  of  the  sphere  was  felt  by  me  some- 
what in  the  form  of  an  apprehension. 

Suddenly,  and  with  inconceivable  velocity,  the 
coming  darkness  dashed,  as  it  were,  upon  me,  and 
enshrouded  me.  I  remember  no  more.  My  last 
remembrance  is,  that  the  thick  shadows  seemed  in- 
terspered  with  a  million  auroral  colors  and  corrus- 


270  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

cations;  and  that  there  shivered  through  me  with 
infinite  rapidity  the  conviction,  This  is  death! 

It  was  days  before  I  returned  to  consciousnessness, 
weeks  before  my  recovery  was  deemed  probable, 
and  months  before  I  was  able  to  hobble  from  my 
room. 

Brattles  had  partly  fallen  and  partly  thrown  him- 
self from  the  wagon  when  Howe  struck  the  horse;  and 
he  escaped  with  a  few  severe  contusions.  About  two- 
thirds  of  the  way  down  the  avenue,  exactly  where 
a  pile  of  fallen  rocks  rendered  a  slight  detour  neces- 
sary, the  wheel  of  the  wagon  on  one  side  struck  the 
debris;  and  the  next  second  the  vehicle,  as  if  shot 
from  a  gun,  was  dashed  against  the  face  of  the  op- 
posite wall.  A  shapeless,  bloody  mass  of  flesh  re- 
mained, and  the  horse,  with  some  remnants  of  the 
wagon,  continued  his  flight. 

A  strange  fact  remains  to  be  related  with  reference 
to  myself.  It  is,  that  I  was  thrown  from  the  vehicle 
within  two  seconds  from  the  time  that  Howe's  whip 
fell  upon  the  body  of  the  maddened  horse.  Accord 
ing  to  the  testimony  of  the  woman  with  the  little 
girl,  at  the  second  or  third  bound  of  the  wagon  it 
alighted  upon  its  side  wheels,  and  tipped  sufficientlj 
to  throw  me  out,  but  righted  again,  owing  to 
a  change  of  position  by  Howe.  The  point  where  I 
was  picked  up  was  about  sixty  feet  farther  dowr 
the  hill  than  where  Brattles  was  found;  and  the  dif- 
ference in  our  positions  demonstrates  that,  at  the 
probable  rate  of  the  speed  of  the  horse,  I  was  thrown 
out  within  one  second  after  Brattles. 

It  was  during  this  single  second  that  occurred  all 
that  I  have  related  with  reference  to  my  thoughts 
and  observations.  Not  only  that  which  I  have  de- 
tailed took  place,  but  there  were  a  thousand  othei 


A  Ride  to  Death.  271 

things — shadows  of  thoughts,  glimpses  of  material 
objects,  attenuated  memories— which  passed  through 
my  mind  like  a  swift  but  disconnected  panorama. 
Reflection  induces  the  conclusion  that  I  did  not 
really  possess  at  the  moment  three  independent 
operations  of  the  mental  faculties.  Of  course,  such 
a  thing  is  impossible.  The  probable  explanation  is, 
that  the  units,  in  each  of  these  processes,  while  in 
reality  separate,  presented  themselves  with  such 
enormous  rapidity  that  they  seemed  a  united  whole, 
like  the  swiftly  revolving  spokes  of  a  wheel. 


THE   MOST    BEAUTIFUL  WOMAN    I 
HAVE  KNOWN. 

N  its  recognition  of  notable  women,  the 
world  is  often  led  to  base -its  judgment,  and 
to  confer  fame,  rather  upon  the  showy  than 
the  truly  substantial  qualities.  It  is  a  melan- 
in ^  choly  truth  that  Aspasia,  Ninon  de  1'Enclos,  and 
Catherine  de  Medici  stand  out  more  prominently 
in  this  world's  recollection  than  many  another 
woman  whose  life  has  been  characterized  by  virtues 
as  the  careers  of  those  noted  women  were  by  their 
crimes. 

Valliere  and  the  Countess  of  Blessington  are  in  a 
fair  way  to  attain  immortality.  Possibly  they  will 
live  lojig  after  Florence  Nightingale  and  other  quiet 
heroines  have  been  forgotten.  I  confess  to  a  hearty 
dislike  of  these  results;  and,  so  far  as  I  can,  I  will 
afford  compensation  to  a  neglected .  heroism.  If  I 
can  not  confer  the  immortality  which  has  been  at- 
tained by  a  bad  woman  like  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
I  can,  at  least,  rescue  temporarily  from  oblivion  one 
woman,  whose  case  impressed  me  more  than  any 
similar  thing  in  my  experience. 

In  attempting  this  work,  I  hope  for  success  with- 
out Wounding  the  delicacy  of  her  who  is  the  subject 
of  the  task,  or  of  those  by  whom  she  is  surrounded. 

Not  long  since,  while  in  search  of  health  and  rec- 


THE  MOST  BEAUTIFUL  WOMAN  I  HAVE  KNOWN. 


The  Most  Beautiful  Woman,  Etc.  273 

reation,  I  spent  some  weeks  in  Essex,  Vermont, 
which  lies  among  the  rugged  hills  that  terminate  the 
western  slope  of  the  Green  mountains.  It  is  a  ster-. 
ile,  and  yet  hospitable  region.  There  is  something 
massive  and  enduring  in  the  character  of  the  resi- 
dents, which  has  been  borrowed  from  the  everlast- 
ing rocks  and  mountains. 

Among  these  people,  each  day  I  became  infused 
with  an  increasing  vigor,  which  seemed  to  be  com- 
municated by  contact  with  the  rocky  surface,  as  one 
takes  electricity  from  a  battery. 

During  my  wanderings,  I  heard  much  of  an  inva- 
lid whose  sufferings  and  patience  were  themes 
which,  from  long  use,  had  almost  grown  into  tradi- 
tions. Confined  to  her  room  by  an  incurable  and 
frightful  malady,  she  was  loved,  honored,  pitied 
by  all  who  spoke  of  her;  and  I  was  assured  that  not 
to  visit  her  would  be  to  deprive  myself  of  a  rare  fel- 
icity. 

I  plead  that,  being  a  stranger,  my  presence  could 
but  be  regarded  as  an  intrusion.  In  truth,  my  real 
reason  was,  that  I  did  not  wish  to  shock  the  pro- 
gress of  my  returning  health  with  what  I  conceived 
would  be  the  distressing  vision  of  a  sick  room,  with 
its  array  of  medical  paraphernalia,  and  its  emanci- 
pated occupant. 

Yielding  finally  to  solicitations  which  became 
pressing,  I  consented  to  make  the  required  visit. 

For  a  distance  of  several  miles,  our  conveyance 
threaded  the  narrow  ravines,  and  climbed  and  de- 
scended the  precipitous  hills,  along  which  twists 
the  road  that  leads  to  the  town  of  Westford.  Away 
to  the  right  against  the  sky,  was  traced  the  waver- 
ing line  that  marked  the  ridges  of  the  Green  Moun- 
tains. Between  these  peaks  and  our  road,  there 


274  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

descended  a  cataract-like  mass  of  rock  and  wood- 
land, over  all  of  which  there  rested  a  semi-diaphan- 
ous mist  of  softest  blue.  Along  our  left,  ran  a  chain 
of  massive  hills — rent,  here  and  there,  into  fissures 
whose  depths  grew  dim  and  shadowy;  and  clad  to 
the  summit  with  stunted  vegetation — among  which, 
now  and  then,  there  appeared  the  gorgeous  tints  of 
autumn. 

Climbing  a  hill  the  road  passed  across  a  .narrow 
valley.  On  the  one  side,  low  ledges  of  rocks  walled 
the  road;  on  the  other,  there  was  a  semi-circular 
clearing,  upon  which  stood  a  plain  white  farm- 
building,  'with  its  outhouses  and  a  garden.  A  few 
sheep,  with  corrugated  fleeces  were  clustered  in  the 
shadow  of  the  roadside-fence;  and  some  cows  dotted 
the  further  side  of  the  opening,  where  it  sloped  up 
the  hills. 

Here  resided  Farmer  Lawrence;  and  within  was 
the  invalid  to  visit  whose  shrine  our  pilgrimage  was 
made. 

The  mother — a  kindly-faced  woman,  with  a  sub- 
stantial form — and  two  sisters — gray-eyed  and  sad- 
visaged — received  us.  The  father — a  medium-sized 
gentleman,  with  benevolent  face,  and  somewhat 
English  style  of  countenance,  in  its  squareness 
and  coloring — soon  after  came  in  and  joined  the 
group. 

Greetings,  and  the  hundreds  of  little  questions  so 
inseparable  from  meeting,  were  tinctured  with  a 
genial  warmth,  on  the  part  of  the  family,  that  seem- 
ed to  flow  from  natures  that  radiated  kindliness  as 
naturally  as  the  sun  gives  off  its  beneficent  heat. 

In  a  little  while,  we  crossed  the  central  hall,  and, 
entered  the  room  of  the  remaining  daughter. 


The  Most  Beautiful  Woman,  Etc.          275 

It  was  a  roomy  parlor,  with  a  south  and  east  front. 
It  was  a  balmy  afternoon,  and  white  curtains,  of 
exquisite  cleanliness,  rustled  with  a  cool,  tremulous 
motion,  in  and  out  the  open  windows.  Upon  a 
table,  in  front  of  one  of  the  windows,  was  a  variety 
of  beautiful  flowers,  whose  variegated  petals  and 
green  leaves  moved  gently  and  harmoniously  under 
the  touch  of  the  fugitive  airs  that  passed  into  the 
room  and  out,  in  invisible  procession.  The  western 
sun  threw,  through  a  window,  a  broad,  golden  band 
of  light,  which  was  shattered  at  intervals  by  the 
restless  curtain.  A  few  prints  on  the  wall,  a  sofa, 
a  table  with  some  books,  completed  the  outfit  of  the 
apartment. 

In  the  window  was  suspended  a  shallow  basket 
containing  crumbs.  To  and  from  this,  darted  wild 
birds,  with  many  a  chirp  and  whistle  of  joy. 

My  eye  took  in  these  particulars  the  instant  I  en- 
tered the  room.  I  hesitated,  with  a  singular  appre- 
hension of  approaching  distress,  from  first  looking 
at  that  which  was  the  real  object  of  our  journey. 
There  was  an  introduction,  and  I  could  no  longer 
hesitate.  There  was  something  in  the  corner, 
which,  in  my  instinctive  avoidance  of  a  direct 
glance  in  that  direction,  seemed  an  indistinguish- 
able mass  of  snowy  white.  My  name  was  ut- 
tered and  I  turned  my  glance  upon  this  corner, 
which,  for  a  single  second  or  two,  I  had  endeavored 
not  to  see. 

As  I  looked,  the  hitherto  shapeless  mass  of  white 
resolved  itself  into  a  cot  covered  with  a  snowy 
counterpane.  Beneath  this  white  covering  were  the 
undulating  outlines  of  a  woman,  who  lay  with  the 
covering  thrown  back  so  as  to  reveal  her  face,  bust, 
and  arms. 


276  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

As  my  eye  reached  the  face,  a  thrill  of  surprise, 
and  then  of  admiration,  pervaded  me. 

It  was  not  the  emaciated  countenance  of  an  inva- 
lid; but  the  full,  rose-tinted,  glorious  face  of  a  re- 
cumbent Venus ! 

To  describe  this  face  is  a  labor  at  which  I  hesi- 
tate, as  might  one  who  was  about  to  convey  in  words 
the  ideas  which  would  inspire  him  as  he  recalled 
Guido's  sublimely  sad  face  of  Beatrice  Cenci.  The 
cheeks  had  none  of  that  pallor  characteristic  of  long 
suffering.  There  was  a  groundwork  of  perfect 
purity,  with  just  a  hint  of  transparence;  and  over 
which  there  lay  a  flush  such  as  comes  from  the  finer 
ripening  processes  of  the  sun.  Her  hands  were 
small,  with  long,  slender,  shapely  fingers.  Her  clean- 
cut  lips  revealed  rows  of  even,  pearly  teeth.  Her 
face  was  of  the  purest  oval,  and  back  from  her 
forehead  lay  heavy  masses  of  brown  hair,  that 
darkened,  or  became  flecked  with  golden  tints,  as 
the  uneasy  curtains  shut  off  or  admitted  the  brilliant 
sunlight.  Her  eyes,  filled  often  with  a  tender 
solemnity,  seemed,  under  the  semi-shadow  of  her 
forehead,  to  be  a  dreamy,  bluish-gray,  that  lightened 
with  humor,  or  grew  dark  and  humid  under  the  in- 
fluence of  pathetic  emotion. 

And  yet  this  young  woman, — this  girl, — with 
the  dreamy  eyes,  and  a  sad  smile  hovering  about 
her  lips, — had  for  fourteen  years  been  a  helpless, 
broken  victim  of  disease.  She  who  thus  lay  upon 
her  right  side;  who  looked,  at  times,  with  a  girlish- 
matronly  glance,  toward  the  flowers,  her  only  chil- 
dren; who  seemed  like  a  young  beauty  fresh  from 
conquests  and  successes,  had  lain  in  her  present  po- 
sition, perfectly  immovable  save  as  to  arms,  shoul- 
ders, and  head,  for  the  best  portion  of  these  fourteen 


The  Most  Beautiful  Woman,  Etc.  277 

years.  All  these  weary  years,  bound  like  Prome- 
theus to  his  rock,  she  has  suffered,  at  intervals,  in- 
describable agonies.  Her  slender  frame,  filled  with 
a  horrible  strength,  has  been  so  torn  and  convulsed 
that  the  combined  efforts  of  three  strong  men  have 
been  found  no  more  than  sufficient  to  restrain  her 
till  the  crisis  has  passed. 

Doomed  each  day  to  be  stretched  for  a  time  upon 
a  rack,  compared  to  which  that  of  the  Inquisition 
was  merciful,  how  is  it  that  she  has  developed  these 
graces,  and  that  there  envelopes  her  features  a 
serenity  that  has  the  brightness  of  a  saintly  halo? 
I  know  not,  unless  it  be  from  a  knowledge  that  pass- 
eth  the  understanding  of  us  who  dwell  out  in  the 
great  world. 

She  possesses  intelligence  that  in  no  sense  does  in- 
justice to  her  appearance.  She  conversed  cheer- 
fully upon  ordinary  topics;  and  was  humorous, 
pathetic,  or  serious,  as  the  theme  demanded.  She 
uttered  no  word  of  complaint  that  she  was  doomed 
to  a  living  death,  nor  has  one  passed  her  lips  during 
the  long  years  of  intense  suffering  that  have  rolled 
over  her  with  their  unvarying  absence  of  relief,  or 
even  of  mitigation. 

This  Hattie  Lawrence;  this  dead-alive  young 
saint;  this  woman  who  shall  never  know  mother- 
hood, save  such  as  is  given  her  in  her  flowers  and 
birds;  this  woman  whose  beauty  bewilders;  whose 
patience  and  serenity  amaze  me;  who  is  imprisoned 
forever  from  the  bright  world,  with  its  wifehood 
and  its  enjoyments;  and  who  knows  life  only  as 
men  near  to,  and  yet  out  of  sight  of,  the  ocean,  hear 
the  dashing  of  the  surf,  and  the  thunder  of  the 
waves, — this  uncomplaining,  hopeful,  immovable 
victim  is  to  me  the  embodiment  of  a  thousand  times 


278  Army  and  Other  Sketches. 

more  heroism  than  is  any  other  woman  whom  his- 
tory has  embalmed  for  immortality.  She  is  one  who, 
better  than  even  the  original,  fills  the  graceful  pic- 
ture of  Mademoiselle  de  Villene,  of  whom  it  was 
said: 

"  Son  esprit  tout  divin  repond  a  son  beau  corps, 
Le  ciel  en  la  faisant  epuisa  ses  tresors." 

Such  of  us  who  toil  and  sorrow,  and  who  find  life 
wearisome  and  a  pain,  should  look  for  a  few  mo- 
ments upon  the  sunny  face,  and  into  the  tender, 
hopeful  eyes  of  this  gallant  soul,  whose  sufferings 
and  whose  beauty  I  have  so  imperfectly  delineated. 
In  so  doing,  we  should  find  that  there  is  no  agony 
so  severe,  no  endeavor  so  arduous,  no  grief  so  inter- 
mittent and  poignant,  that  it  may  not  be  endured, 
until  its  chastening  result  is  an  adornment. 


